Destructive Distance
by LauraUriex
Summary: John breaks up with Sherlock after a year of relationship, thinking it the healthiest solution, but the two of them will soon find out that being separated brings them into a spiral of destructive behaviour towards themselves and the people around them. Will fate keep them apart or will they find their way back to each other?
1. Losing Lovers

**TRIGGER WARNING: Attempted suicide**

**I do not own ****Sherlock (BBC) **

It was night and Sherlock was alone, sitting on a sidewalk, in a deserted street in London.  
He was hysterical and had to keep himself from going into full on panic attack, as he'd lost his boyfriend not two hours before.

"It's for the best," John had said.  
What was supposed to be a lovely time with him had turned out to be the worst night of his life.

Sherlock had waited the whole day, in boredom, at home, as there had been no cases to solve.  
He had prepared a surprise dinner for him and John, as it was their anniversary. They'd had a big fight the night before and Sherlock had hoped that this special occasion would have mended their wounds.

But, when John had made it home, he had instantly dropped the bomb.  
"This can't work out, Sherlock." he had said, not five minutes after getting through the door.  
"I'm sorry, but we're not meant to be together, we work better as friends. This... I can't take it anymore." he'd stated pointing at the two of them. "I'm leaving."  
Sherlock's initial reaction had been... Numbness. It was like a very loud grenade had exploded right in his ears and had deafened him.  
He stood there, by the door, where he'd rushed to greet his now _ex boyfriend. _

He hadn't chased John when he'd seen him go to their room, take his things and then walk out the door.  
When the initial shock had died down, Sherlock had wandered alone, through the boulevards of London, destroyed, unable to function anymore, until reality had hit him like a truck.  
The love of his life had left him so coldly, without too many words to explain why, and had come out of his life so suddenly and without a warning.  
Despite that, Sherlock was afraid he knew the answer.  
But he'd let John walk out of his house and life without saying a word.  
He'd let him go, but that didn't mean he would have been ok with it, he just wished it had all been a nightmare.

All he wanted to do was go back in time, at least a year before, when things between him and John were good, at the very beginning of their romantic relationship.

John was the man of his dreams, but apparently Sherlock wasn't good enough for him. His biggest fear had always been John realizing Sherlock was way too "crazy" for him, and he was pretty sure he had ended the relationship with him because of that.

He noticed how his man had changed through the years he'd known him. First he was dapper, a gentleman. Then years later he'd become less loving and more full of himself.

John was slowly morphing into a non family version of Mycroft, now. He was no longer a gentleman and became very competitive. He wondered if it was because of how "eclectic" and "insufferable" Sherlock Holmes was.  
John wasn't who he'd used to be and Sherlock didn't like that.  
Ever since he'd accepted that he, too, could feel emotions, he'd always compared himself to John thinking _"Am I good enough? Am I worth __it?__". _Besides, John looked so much better than he did physically, at least in his mind. John was fit, while Sherlock was just a tall guy with messy hair.

He even wondered if John had actually loved him, or if he had decided to turn their friendship into something more just out of pity.

Maybe Sherlock should have never kissed him, that time, out of impulse. But maybe he wouldn't have been alive, now.

All he knew was that he was now drowning in his tears, lonely and with a few homeless people sleeping beside him.

After a while, he decided to get up and take a taxi back to 221 Baker Street.

When he entered his flat he fell on the couch, crying. His cries woke Mrs Hudson, who immediately ran upstairs to check on him.  
Given she had a spare pair of keys, she was able to storm into his house without any problems.

"Hey Sherlock, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" She asked, concerned.  
Sherlock looked up at her and didn't know whether he should yell at her or cry into her arms. He noticed her eyes were puffy, so he hugged her and cried all over her.  
He knew he was letting his guard down and he was showing affection to someone who had always seen him as emotionless, but he didn't want to care.  
"John.. he broke up with me!" He was now bawling and he was sure he was already wetting Mrs Hudson's sleeping gown.  
"Shhh, Sherlock, don't cry," Mrs Hudson cooed. "My boyfriend broke up with me too... He decided he had to go back to his wife..But it's for the best. Maybe our men just weren't the best match for us, darling. As much as it pains me to think of John Watson in such manner, given I care for him."  
"I don't want to live if I don't have my John. He's everything to me, even if he's unaware of this.." Sherlock tried to say in a fit of spasms.  
Mrs Hudson kissed his head. "I'm sure you'll find someone else. We're in London, Sherlock! About five million people live in London! You'll find the right man soon. Or the right woman. " She moved his hair from his face lovingly. "And I'll find the right man soon too, one who thoroughly enjoys my tea. "  
Sherlock laughed a little bit, that woman was something else..  
"Now let's go to sleep, ok?" said the elderly woman, while holding his hand. Sherlock smiled slightly and let her lead him to bed.  
The woman decided she would stay in the house with him, as she knew how self destructive the man could be.

At 3am, when Mrs Martha Hudson was fast asleep in what had used to be John's bedroom, Sherlock got up and went to the bathroom. He looked at his messy reflection in the mirror and sighed_. Wow, I'm really disgusting, that's why John left me. _He opened the cabinet where he kept prescription pills. His trembling hand took hold of around five painkillers. "I'm sorry, John, I'm so sorry!" He whispered as he sobbed. "I'm sorry."  
He had nothing left to hold on to. He only had Martha Hudson who had already told him to move on with his life. But John had left him, for good this time ... he just didn't find life worth living anymore. So he put all those pills in his mouth and swallowed, aided by tap water.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was a crying Mrs Hudson screaming "NO!".

He woke up in an hospital bed. His head hurt like hell and he felt queasy. But he wasn't dead.

"OH THANK GOD!" Mycroft shouted as soon as he saw his brother open his eyes. He'd been sitting at his bedside, half asleep.  
"Mycroft? Where am I?" Sherlock asked, confused.  
"Sherlock, you've been unconscious for three days, I've been here for like two. You had us all worried! " His brother said.  
Sherlock noticed he had red eyes.

"What were you thinking? You could have _died_, Christ!" Mycroft started crying, once again. It was unusual for someone like him to cry, so that must have been a very serious matter.  
"I'm sorry... I just.. I wanted to die! I had nothing and John.. he broke up with me so I didn't even have him. I don't have him anymore, Mycroft! I want to die!" said Sherlock, in a sad voice.  
His brother hugged him not so tightly because he was scared he would hurt him. "Sherlock, are you listening to yourself? You're Sherlock Holmes! I know you have depressive tendencies sometimes but you can't just throw away your life because of human emotions! And besides, you didn't lose everything, you still have me, your friends, and an amazing career! Do you think this is nothing?" Mycroft let out.  
"No... but..." Sherlock sighed.  
"But?"  
"I need John.. without him I wouldn't be here today and I need him. He left me, Mycroft. "He choked up a sob. "He'd promised me he would never leave me and he left me. He left me! He left me!" Now he was sobbing freely, his brother still hugging him.

"Sherlock! Oh My God!" Miss Hudson rushed into the hospital room.  
"Are you crazy? You could have died!" Mycroft pulled away from his brother, just as soon as the woman ran to hug him .  
"I'm sorry, Martha. I just wanted to end it. John leaving me was the last thing I could take."

* * *

Meanwhile, no one had told John about Sherlock, probably because they were disgusted by what he'd done.  
John had no idea about what had happened to Sherlock, yet every time he saw one of their mutual friends, he'd be treated like garbage.  
He assumed they were on Sherlock's side, not knowing the whole story.  
They were all obviously wrong. John had broken up with Sherlock for the best, surpassing a platonic relationship and making it a romantic one had turned out to be unhealthy for them and their fights were risking to separate them forever. John still felt romantic feelings towards Sherlock, but he felt that going back to a friendship would have been the best option.  
He had moved in with his sister Harry, accompanied by his infant daughter. He and Sherlock needed to be apart, for the time being.

That day he ran into Molly, while walking in a park.  
He noticed that she was a little distant and thought it as weird.  
For instance, her reaction to his friendly hello was unusual for her.  
"John, you are disgusting!" He heard her say.

"What?" He'd never thought Molly, of all people, could behave like that with him.  
"What did I do? Why is everyone treating me like shit lately? What the HELL did I do, Molly?" He shouted back at her.

"You left _him_! He needed you and you abandoned him! He almost lost his life because of you!" the tiny girl spat out in what seemed like utter fury.  
As soon as John heard those words, he immediately froze. His face became pale and he grew very concerned. _"_What happened to him?" he asked, at the edge of a panic attack.

"He tried to commit suicide..." Molly said, choking back her tears.

Those words made his stomach twist and sink to his feet. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. "H-how... No! How did it happen? What... what did he do? Oh God!" John put his hands in his hair in extreme anxiety.  
"He overdosed on painkillers, but he didn't die. But he did that because you brought him to it!"

John couldn't believe it was true. Sherlock had tried to kill himself and it was all his fault.

* * *

A few hours later, Sherlock was still in hospital. He was alone. Not long before, he had woken up in his bed, had seen some of the people he loved the most and had promised them he would never do that again. Even if that would be extremely hard not to, because life without John felt so empty, so black and white...

Suddenly he saw the door opening and he couldn't believe what he saw.

"John, why are you here?" Sherlock asked, a bit dizzy. He wasn't sure that what he was living wasn't a dream.  
John was there, at the entrance to his room.

"What were you thinking?" John shouted while coming into the room.  
He was pretty angry. "How could you deliberately overdose to try and kill yourself?"  
"Because, John, I can't live without you! I can't bear spending a life that doesn't include you in it!" Sherlock responded, weakly. At each word he pronounced, his head would hurt even more.

Seeing him like that was really painful to John. That wasn't the first time he'd seen him on a hospital bed, yet, this time, it was far worse.  
"I never said we wouldn't be in each other's lives anymore." said John. "We just can't be together anymore, can't you see? You are not stable! You can't attempt suicide if you see that I break up with you for the best reasons!"

"John, you need to understand that I need you. You're the only thing that keeps me alive, you complete me. How do you expect me to live without you?" Sherlock whimpered, out of breath.  
" Sherlock. " John said, walking closer to man on the bed. "We tried being together, it just didn't work. Our relationship had turned too unhealthy. We'd even fight over uncooked pasta, for crying out loud! We need distance, Sherlock, it's the only way we can both heal. Then, maybe, we can consider being close again. But until then, you can't be intimate with me. For a bit, it's best if we don't communicate." It wasn't just Sherlock's heart that broke in that moment. The younger man tried to breathe in a steady pattern. A bit of complete distance from John could have helped with his enormous attachment issues for him and then rebuild their relationship all together.

That meant that it wasn't lost forever.

"Perhaps you are right. We can't even be friends for a while... I understand what you mean but please, promise me this isn't really goodbye." Sherlock pleaded. His throat felt really dry.  
John gave the other man a tearful look. As much as it pained him to see Sherlock like that, his common sense prevailed. Both men needed individual psychological help and it was clear that Sherlock's suicide desire had been there for a long time. He might have seemed like a man that felt nothing, while in reality he just felt things in an amplified manner.  
"I can't tell you right now, but I hope so. If you end up dead, then I can't not say goodbye to you now." John said in a shaky voice. "So if you don't want this to be our final meeting, then please, don't die. "  
"I won't. I promise." Sherlock said quietly.  
"I'm sorry it has to be this way." John breathed as he took Sherlock's hand in his. All he wanted to do in that moment was hold him close, but he couldn't. The curly haired man was hooked up to too many tubes to do so.  
His hand was cold, but it still felt nice to touch it. Rubbing his thumb on it just felt so natural.

"And I'm also sorry I just stormed off without giving you an explanation. I was just too frustrated with how things had become between us."  
"I'm sorry I tried to die." Sherlock responded in a hoarse voice.  
After a last look at the man he loved, John nodded, then let go of his hand and left the room.

As Sherlock watched him do so, part of the pain from a few days before came back to him, but, this time, it was mixed with a feeling of relief.  
Not all hope was lost.

When John came out of Sherlock's room, he saw Mycroft and Mrs Hudson talking quietly to a nurse.  
He didn't have the guts to go up to them and talk, so he just rushed to the toilet and, when he made sure he was alone, he let himself cry freely.  
Warm tears flooded his face, his vision became blurry and he fell to the floor.  
In the midst of his sorrow, the ex soldier kept repeating to himself that he had made the best decision, that Sherlock needed serious help and that they were going to be better, one without the other.


	2. Being Apart

In the next month, Sherlock had to undergo some procedures he found quite _annoying. _First of all, he was always put under surveillance.

Mrs Hudson had moved in with him to make sure he wouldn't try to kill himself again.

She was his constant shadow, and that was starting to bother him slightly. She'd even follow him to the bathroom, closing her eyes every time he took a shower or changed clothes.

Whenever he left the house, Mycroft's drones would chase after him, observing his every move.

Objects like knifes, guns, pills, razors and ropes had been removed from his house, and if he needed to cut his food or shave his beard, someone else - like Mrs Hudson - would do it for him.

He had to go to therapy sessions twice a week and he'd been prescribed antidepressants, but only someone else could give them to him.

It all felt like a prison, sometimes, or like he was participating in _Big Brother, _with eyes constantly on him.

Other than that, he was put on a temporary leave from work, as his therapist felt he needed time to rest.

Truth was, his days had become boring and empty without a case to solve and a John to hold.

Sherlock felt all that was unnecessary.

Sure, he had overdosed on pills, but he had calculated the right amount of the substance for it to put him out for a while, but not enough to kill him.

In fact, he had changed his mind last minute. Dying sure would have grabbed John's attention, but he wouldn't have been there to receive it.  
Therefore, he wanted to scare him, to get him to feel guilty and essentially come to him.

That had, indeed, worked.

Sherlock was aware that something like that sounded insane, but no one would have ever known.

* * *

John's month had also been hard.

He couldn't see or speak to Sherlock - Mycroft had been very clear about it- and he, too, had to go through therapy to even learn to be OK again.

He was glad his days were always busy, filled with caring for his daughter, bonding with his sister and going to work.

Mrs Hudson, Molly, Mycroft and everyone else were all very cold towards John. They'd stopped talking to him all together and wouldn't say hello to him if they ran into him.

Lestrade was the only one who half understood, but being Sherlock's friend inevitably put him on his side.

Whenever he caught himself being sad about his friends' detachment, John would just tell himself that they all needed time and that it was understandable why they sided with Sherlock - the person who they thought was the victim of the situation.

Another thing that kept his mind out of it and that his therapist had advised, was dating again.

He was getting familiar with Grindr and Tinder, so he began dating a different person every night.

Men, women, it didn't matter, but none of them would ever go past chaste kissing, at most.

That until he met Oliver.

Oliver was a younger man, in his thirties, and he was... peculiar.

He had lots of pets: four dogs, two cats, five turtles and six different kinds of birds, for he was a veterinarian.

The first time John had _stayed over, _he'd stumbled on one of the bird cages.

Oliver, however, had not expressed anger on the incident.

He was kind, generous and also very polite. He would always listen when John spoke and he seemed to appreciate him a lot.

Sherlock, of course, had to be kept in the dark about the whole thing.

One thing that John's sister had noticed about Oliver when he showed up at her doorstep to pick up her brother, was that he looked an awful lot like Sherlock.

He had black curls, light green eyes and loved to wear long coats.

The only thing that differentiated him from Sherlock - physically speaking - was the unusual, astronomical length of his neck.

John would always laugh at her every time she made an observation about how similar the two men were.

"Don't be silly," he'd say, chuckling "that man is nothing like him."

That was the thing. It didn't matter how _perfect _Oliver was, he just wasn't Sherlock.

So, it wouldn't be unusual for John to imagine he was actually kissing and touching Sherlock - he just had to close his eyes.

Sure, it was hard sometimes to keep himself from saying the wrong name during _certain moment_s, but that wasn't too much of a problem.

Sometimes, when he'd sleep at Oliver's place, in his bed, he wouldn't bask into the warmth of the other man's arms wrapped around him, on the contrary, he would almost hate it.

Not as much as he'd hate the sounds of the parrots screeching at night, though.

He was starting to think that this new adjustment wasn't the happiest he could find, but he still wanted to convince himself that distance from Sherlock was _for the best._

After all, he'd never fight with Oliver and he didn't drive him mad.

But, boy, did he miss his annoying detective.

* * *

Sherlock found his new lifestyle to be too smothering. Mycroft was too protective and he didn't understand that, as much as his little brother was in pain and wasn't the happiest person alive, it wasn't the best way to deal with him.

Sherlock felt like he was a baby that needed constant attention, that couldn't take care of himself.

It had been a month and John still hadn't shown up, not even via text or calls.

Sherlock had tried to contact him many times, but his _baby-sitters _had stopped him from making that mistake.

He wondered just how much longer of that _torture _he had to endure before he could breathe again.

Sherlock wasn't really smiling even when his face begged to differ, it was just the stupid antidepressants making him think he was feeling somewhat good.

But they weren't as powerful as John was.

He was aware that John had been the worst type of drug he'd ever had to deal with.

His kisses were addictive as crack, especially when they were on his neck, and basically everything about him was so inebriating that Sherlock just couldn't get enough of the extreme euphoria he'd feel when in his presence.

It was true that, like every drug, too much of it reveals itself to be damaging, even if it feels good at first.

He and John were fighting all the time towards the end of their relationship, because they were _always _together, both at home and at work, and it was starting to take its toll on the both of them.

When the pairing first got together, things weren't as smooth as they'd appeared to be.

It had taken a very long time to convince John to become more than friends.

Their relationship had always been ambiguous - there was mental attraction on both parts - but John was scared and kept saying that he was not gay.

However, his love for the detective had become too much for him to ignore, so he had finally given in when, exactly a year before, Sherlock had kissed him out of nowhere.

John never wanted to hold hands or be affectionate in public as he felt it was _embarrassing. _

Sherlock never liked this aspect of his behaviour, so it would often be the cause of many arguments between the two.

Of course, nobody was surprised when they came out publicly, but John never introduced Sherlock as his boyfriend, to the new people he'd meet - he'd always refer to him as his _colleague _or words similar to it, and that also never failed to piss Sherlock off.

It was like John had a case of internalised homophobia towards himself.

One good thing about their constant fights was what would happen right after, meaning make up sex, or just a tearful display of affection.

But apparently newly Mycroft-like stuck-up John didn't find it to be enough.

A month after the breakup, Sherlock both hated and loved John to the core.

How could he have decided to _give up _on them, just because of those disagreements?

Yes, those moments were undoubtedly stressful, but Sherlock felt that a love like theirs was too important to throw away over a bit of bickering.

It seemed to him like John didn't care too much, and would have let Sherlock _kill himself _over him.

The detective kept count of each day he'd spend without his lover.

He wouldn't sleep much and if he did sleep, he'd dream of them being happy together, which was even more painful than thinking about the bad times.

Especially remembering the sweetness of their love making encounters, the way their bodies collided in utter ecstasy and the feelings that took over them both.

Even though the people around him would tell him to start dating again, once they saw that he was more _stable _(but that was just another of his tricks), Sherlock would look at them as if they were crazy.

How could they think that, after such an intense relationship, he'd find himself willing to be with someone else just a month later?

Normal people just didn't understand.  
Molly, for one, was trying to insinuate herself deeper into his life.

He knew that she was helplessly in love with him, but Sherlock just didn't like women.

He'd tried to be with them in the past, but to no avail.

They did _nothing _to him, ever more so now that all he had in his mind was John.

It wasn't unusual for him to snap at Mrs Hudson or flip off his brother's flying cameras as they followed him whenever he'd set foot out of his house.

He missed his freedom so much, yet it seemed like everyone around him was terrified of the simplest things he'd do.

One night, he decided to sneak out.

It was around midnight and Mrs Hudson was already asleep on an armchair she'd put in Sherlock's room, and the detective silently dressed up and left.

He knew that Mycroft's drones would start working every time he'd walk out the door, because of a transmitter installed in his phone, so he left without it.

Making sure no one was following him, Sherlock made a run for it and escaped to the centre of London, looking for a random case to investigate.

He just needed to feel alive again.

Nothing. No one seemed to misbehave that night in London. Nothing strange,  
out of the ordinary.

Sherlock huffed in boredom as he walked through his big city.

It still felt good, though, to be away from his friends' overwhelming chokehold, for once.

Sherlock felt like his freedom had been given back to him, like he could do anything he wanted and no one would judge him for it.

When he got to a street filled with pubs, he noticed that two men were walking around, holding hands.

Somehow, a weird feeling got to his stomach. It was some sort of envy, those people were unknowingly cruel for rubbing their relationship in his face, now that he didn't have a hand to hold.

Curious to see where the happy couple was headed - wondering if they'd be tonight's case - he began following them from afar.

One of them was wearing a long, light brown coat and he had short, curly hair. He was a lot taller than the other one, who had a sombrero hat on.

There must have been a Mexican night at one of the nearby pubs, he deduced.

They had not been together a long time, as they seemed to be all over each other, and they had surely drunk a lot, for they were stumbling.

Sherlock could hear them laughing softly, which added to that feeling in his stomach.

Still nothing strange was happening.

All of sudden, the two men stopped walking.

The tall one grabbed the short one's shoulder and pushed him to a wall, still in the midst of giggles.

Sherlock found it to be nauseating.

Then, the tall guy kissed the other one in a pretty racy way.

"_Viva la vida!" _said the tall guy in his very tipsy voice, after pulling away.  
It was surely the first spanish phrase that had come to his mind, Sherlock observed.

He was sure that, at this point, nothing cool would happen, so he decided to leave the scene.

But nothing could prepare him for what happened next.

As soon as he started making his way back home, he heard it, the unmistakable sound of John Watson's voice.

Sherlock froze. The world meant to tell him that _his _John, who he'd broken up with not a month before, was there, kissing another guy, all happy and giddy?

He prayed to be wrong, so he was extremely disappointed when, upon turning around, his eyes confirmed to him that the guy with the sombrero was, indeed, John.

It was like someone had stabbed him in the stomach with a glass shard and enjoyed themselves, watching as he bled.


	3. Bad Decisions

"Jesus, we can't take our eyes off him that this happens?"  
"Oh, he's gonna hear me!"

His eyes still closed, Sherlock heard two men speaking. Although their voices sounded like they were far in the distance, the detective could tell they were standing next to him and were talking about him. He slowly opened his eyes to see what all that was about. His head ached so bad he thought it would explode.

A bit dazed, he looked around his surroundings and realised he'd spent the night sleeping next to some dumpsters.

_How did I bloody get here? _He thought.

"Oh, he's awake!" Said one of the two men, who revealed himself to be his brother, Mycroft. "Sherlock Holmes, what in the world were you thinking?" he shouted, angrily.

"Don't speak so loudly!" Sherlock groaned. "head aches."

"I'm gonna speak as loud as I want after what you did last night!" Mycroft barked. He then kneeled down to be at his brother's eye level. "I can't believe you wandered about the city at night, unsupervised, stalked two people and then kicked a dumpster until you got tired and blacked out!"

"What? I don't remember any of this!" Sherlock said, defensively.

"Of course you don't remember!" said the other man, who turned out to be Lestrade. "You took such a high amount of alcohol in your system that we're surprised you're still alive!"

As the other two spoke, pieces of the night before started coming back to Sherlock.

He had snuck out of his house, roamed the streets of London looking for a case to solve... Oh, that's right...

He had seen John.

After seeing him locking lips with that _ugly _giraffe-like man, Sherlock had gone into a random bar, gotten drunk out of his mind and then expressed his drunken rage on a dumpster.

Oh John, that _prick. _Not even a month after leaving him, that he'd already found a rebound.

Judging from his deductions, the detective assumed John had not been with this guy for long, so that meant he had not started dating him when he was still with Sherlock, but that didn't mean he was _forgiven. _

One bloody month and John was already snogging someone else.

Sherlock had chosen not to run after them and punch them both, rather he thought taking out his anger on them could have done more harm than good.  
So, he'd chosen to harm himself, instead.

"Explain that to me!" Mycroft basically spat in his brother's face. "You tried again, uh?"

"John." Sherlock simply said.

"Oh Christ, I have had it with this John. You're _obsessed _with him! You can't just do something stupid every time you think of him!"Mycroft uttered in exasperation.

" No, John. I saw him last night... With another guy. He's replaced me already. So instead of going after them, I trashed myself." Sherlock said with a shrug.

"Christ, Sherlock. Where did I go wrong?" the oldest Holmes said as he rubbed his face. "I had prepared drones, had Mrs Hudson basically stalk you 24/7 and you still found a way to go and do crazy stuff?"

"Sorry if I say something inconvenient, but, perhaps, putting an old woman in charge of Sherlock wasn't the cleverest idea? I mean, she fell asleep too early to stop him from running away." Lestrade intervened.

"I would have escaped even if I'd had you baby me, _Craig." _Sherlock said with a hint of cockiness. "The only thing I'm trying to understand is, how did you find me? I'm guessing as soon as Martha woke up - I'd say about 5 am - she called you, desperate, because she thought I had attempted to do something. Since I'd left my phone at home, you searched within the 5 mile radius and asked every Bar or restaurant to give you CCTV footage, until said footage led you to me, am I correct?" he continued.

"Yes. That's what happened. And I got to this conclusion: either you accept the rules we tell you to respect, or we'll lock you up in some facility. Do you hear me?" Mycroft shouted, taking hold of his brother's shirt.

Sherlock had never seen him so angry before. He was _livid. _He looked at Mycroft's hands, which were gripping on the fabric of his clothes, then swallowed a lump of anxiety in his throat.

" Ok... Won't happen again... You see, I'm still alive..." said Sherlock, a bit scared of his brother.

Mycroft sighed deeply. "You're going to give me a heart attack, one day. Now, come on, let's go back home. And I want you to know this. I know you think this is too much for you, like we're not giving you your freedom, but this is for your own good. You're _suicidal, _so leaving you alone would basically mean to kill you." he let go of Sherlock's shirt.

Then, he rose back to his feet and helped his brother do the same, offering his hand.

Sherlock just nodded. In order to be left alone, he had to appear sane, or like he was doing good.

That way, he could have also gone through with the revenge he was already planning to take on John.

* * *

John came home at 6 am on that Sunday morning. He'd spent the night drinking with Oliver - and they'd drunk a _lot. _

When he set foot into his sister's house, he was still pretty drunk.

He stumbled to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, not realising that his daughter was right there, witnessing it.

A few hours later he was shaken awake by Harry, who was pretty pissed.

"John. Wake up!" she shouted.

John was startled awake, so he almost screamed out of fear.

"What?" He said, groggy.

"Why did Rosie come crying to me earlier, saying she saw daddy die?" Harry asked, serious.

"Oh no, Rosie! Where is she? I have to tell her daddy is fine!" John said, concerned. He wasn't drunk anymore and the hangover was beginning to take on him.

"Compose yourself, please. You come home at 6 am, drunk - you smell an awful lot like alcohol - and then you traumatise your young daughter?" Harry said, trying to get her brother to sit straight.

"John, I've told you before. If you want to live here, there is no way you can come home in this condition." she said sternly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd be something to worry about... I had a few drinks with Oliver and then I must have fallen asleep on the couch with Rosie watching me do so." John said, trying to excuse himself.

"I get that you had fun, but you know what alcohol does to you. You could have hurt Rosie, even without realising, and that's why I'm telling you to stop doing this. If you want to get trashed, then don't come home, ok? And next time, tell me when you're coming back, because you left without telling me and I had to stay up all night trying to soothe your daughter to sleep. And if you ever behave like this again, I am kicking you out. " Harry warned.

" I won't disappoint you again... It was just a moment... "John said, shameful.  
" I hope so." Harry sighed. "Look, John, I've been through a rough breakup myself, so I know what you're feeling right now. You're deeply sad, you want to stay high all the time. And you're looking for this high with sex and alcohol, but this will slowly destroy you if you don't do it moderately." as she said so, she sat next to him on the sofa.

"What I also know," she continued "is that in my case, separation was the best option. But, are you sure that it's the same for you?" she asked.  
John sighed. The truth was, he didn't know.

Leaving Sherlock had not really solved much. There was no emotion in his relationship with Oliver, or with how he lived his days.

He was slowly beginning to break down and there was no way to hide it anymore. Drinking until 6 am?  
Something he hadn't done since his twenties.

He'd done it because he needed it to take his mind off Sherlock. _Everything _he did was to avoid thinking of him, but that didn't work.

Whenever he was holding or feeding Rosie, he would inevitably be reminded of when his boyfriend would help him do so.

He would also get flashes of him when working and he secretly hoped that his patients were all, somehow, Sherlock in disguise.

"I have a problem." John finally admitted, his face in his hands. "I thought being away from Sherlock would have made me healthier, a better father, brother... Person in general. But I'm starting to think that I made a big mistake."

His sister put a friendly hand on his shoulder, then squeezed lightly.

"I do agree with you, but you need to wait. You can't just go back to Sherlock now, it's too early. He has his battles to fight, you have yours. Then, once you're both healed, you will find your way back to each other. I know."

"it's just that I miss him so freaking much." John said, his eyes already watering and a lump forming in his throat. "I miss waking up to him every morning, falling asleep in his arms... I even miss his quirks. I never thought I'd be this devastated over my own decision. Yet here I am. Jesus, he even tried to take his own life because of me!" John let out a sob.

He hated himself so much for it, and thinking about what could have happened if Sherlock had not been found in time made it unbearable. He never would have forgiven himself had he lost another lover.

"No, stop saying that!" Harriet comforted him. "It's not your fault he did. I'm sure there's something that's deeply dark in him, John. He's not fine, he needs help. But everything will be Ok, I promise! When all this is over, you'll be as happy as ever!"

John could only hope so.

* * *

As soon as Sherlock was dropped home, he ran to his and John's bedroom in a full on rage. He didn't care that his head hurt, he just knew that he had to get rid of everything that reminded him of that _asshole. _

Every framed picture he'd find, he'd throw it on the floor, or out the window. Clothes he'd left behind, he'd throw in some bin or flush down the toilet.

Mrs Hudson watched all of that unfold in front of her, yet she let him do it.  
She was told by his therapist that they had to let him take out his anger on objects - so long as he didn't harm himself - as it was therapeutic and tiring.

Also, it would also be a symbolic goodbye between him and who he was trying to leave behind.

Who did John think he was to overwhelm him with emotions - something he had tried to avoid all his life - and then leave him, just to go screw some random guy a month after?

He'd even contemplated dying over him and had literally _overdosed_ to get his attention, for what?

To be monitored 24/7 by his overprotective brother and friends?

He couldn't even have a night out that his brother went bar to bar asking for surveillance tapes.

It all felt like everyone had gone mad, all for that stupid little doctor.

But he was going to show him.  
He was going to be the last one to laugh.  
And he would have laughed a lot.

* * *

About a week later, at noon, John was having lunch with his sister and daughter.

He was feeding Rosie some mashed potatoes, when his phone rang.  
He excused himself and went to fetch his phone, which was in the pocket of his coat.

As soon as he saw the name on the screen - Greg Lestrade - his stomach sunk. Scared that something terrible had happened to Sherlock, he accepted the call.

"Hello?" he said, visibly trembling.

"John - Thank God you responded. You might want to check what I've just sent you. I hope you're sitting down." Lestrade said frantically.

The moment John opened the file he'd been sent, his eyes widened in shock and his mouth gaped open.


	4. Unable To Resist

**_Warning: Boyxboy, NSFW _**

It was over 1pm and Sherlock was sitting cross legged on the sofa, waiting patiently.

At this time, John must have already been informed of it... He would have contacted him any minute.

Just as the detective eyed the wall clock, which stroke 1:02pm, the door to his flat swung open.

"You're two minutes late." he said, not looking at the intruder.

"What the actual fuck, Sherlock?" It was John. Yes, he'd definitely seen it.

The fun was about to begin.

"Well hello to you too, _ex." _He said nonchalantly, this time tilting up his face to look at a red-faced John.

"Sherlock, can you explain to me why the _fuck _you put this all over the screens at Piccadilly Circus?" the short man was downright furious. Sherlock was beginning to enjoy himself.

With a shaky hand, John showed his phone to Sherlock.

There was a video of John, on loop, of his eyes being crossed with a red X and there were words under his chin saying "I am the biggest asshole in London".

The tall man found it hard not to laugh.

"Well, isn't it true?" Sherlock snickered.

"I thought we had agreed not to contact each other until we were both better." John spat. "But you go and act like a bloody child and humiliate me in front of the whole city, and for what?"

Sherlock noticed that John's temple veins were expanding. Was it that easy to push his buttons?

"Because, John, a month after breaking up with me, you _screwed _a man that looks like me, but with a _giraffic _neck. A month. You said a bit of distance would be good, but I didn't think you meant _fucking _someone else would be in the picture." Sherlock said, calmly.

His apparent tranquility was enough to irritate John. How could he be sitting there, all smug, when he'd just committed a crime?

"Distance means a lot of things. And since we're not together in this moment, this means I can 'screw' whoever I want." John responded, still pretty angry. "And how did you know I had someone else?"

"Yeah but it's been a month! Not even thirty days ago you were doing me and now you exchange saliva and other bodily fluids with that... Vet." Sherlock stated. "And I know about it because I saw you, one night.  
I was out looking for a case to solve - because I've been put on house arrest - and then I saw you eating that guy's face after you ate Mexican food. Oh and I, of course, know he's a vet because of his hands. He's used to handling _snake_s, I see. " he accentuated the word _snake._

_"_Well, whatever you think of him doesn't matter, what matters is you should remove my face from all over the screens or I'm going to sue your ass, Sherlock _bloody _Holmes!" John said, fury in his face.

A smirk formed on Sherlock's face. John had basically put it on a silver platter.

With all the smugness in his blood, Sherlock said it.  
"I thought you liked doing other things to my ass."

At that, John's mouth dropped open.

He was outraged.

"Yeah, I'm going to kick it!" he said in his best attempt at a comeback.

Then, he grabbed Sherlock by his shirt and threw him to the ground.

He ended up on top of him, straddling him.

The other man tried to push John away from himself, but the ex soldier was too strong for that to happen.  
"You... Piece of shit!" And then the first blow came. It was a punch to Sherlock's face, but it was too light for it to actually hurt or to create damage.  
Sherlock laughed silently.

"You think this is funny, uh? First, you try to kill yourself, then you do this childish shit? You really hate me, uh? Why are you always so selfish?"

And then the second blow, which was more of a slap, came.

Sherlock tried to get John away from him, but he wasn't trying hard enough. He wanted him there, because he had to vent out all his frustrations. He had to realise that he had made the biggest mistake of his life when he'd decided to break up with him.

"Well you're the one who hates me if you let me take all those pills and then you fuck around with other people." the black haired man responded.

"We are not together now, get it in your head!" John roared, ignoring the comment about the pills.  
"Yet you're on top of me in our house now." said Sherlock.

John thought a while before he acted next. All the anger that had built up inside him for over a month, the things Sherlock was doing to get his attention... That man was really a disgrace and he knew that, but he also knew that he was the best thing to have ever happened to him.

He didn't want to hurt him anymore, it would have hurt himself more.  
While he was thinking, he was breathing heavily, still on top of the taller man, who was also breathing in an unsteady pattern, because of the struggle.

Sherlock's eyes had never looked so beautiful before. They were so cerulean in that moment, with a bit of gold in the middle. Why did he have to be so attractive, other than being an insufferable git all the time?

The two men stared at each other for what felt like hours, then John just couldn't resist.  
With all the rage in his body, he kissed Sherlock ferociously.

It wasn't one of their usual sweet kisses, it was just lust-filled, angry and with enough force for their lips to hurt.

It was like an avalanche had hit them both with a freezing, yet burning passion that they couldn't avoid.

It was then and there that John realised just how much he'd missed that, how much he'd missed Sherlock, those moments of pure fire that Oliver that couldn't give to him, and that need that only the detective beneath him could satisfy.

To him, all of that was magical. Although it was unlike any other kiss they'd shared, it still made him feel amazing, and his mind was getting fuzzy with desire.

Sherlock responded to the kiss just as fiercely, after his body got over the initial surprise.

That was when he felt it again, the drug that John was, more addictive than heroine.

And he'd missed it so much.

John's tongue begged for entrance, so he let it in his mouth and embraced every second of pleasure that it produced.

Both men completely lost control of their bodies as their tongues collided together, feeling like they were two volcanos ready to explode and end up covered in scolding lava.

Sherlock's hands roamed through John's torso, desperately trying to pull him closer to himself.

"_Oh, John." _Sherlock breathed as he gasped for air.

"I'm _not _having sex with you." John said in between kisses.

"Uh uh." said Sherlock, although he knew his power on John was too irresistible for him to stop.

"I said I'm not doing that, I have a boyfriend." John repeated, as soon as he started unbuttoning the other man's shirt.

"Then leave." said Sherlock, keeping eye contact with him.

"I wish I could_." _John whimpered in response.

That he was. One of the reasons why he had broken up with Sherlock was that he just couldn't resist him. There was no way he could keep his hands off him, sometimes it was dangerous because the urge to touch him would often come in public places.

Sherlock attacked John's lips once again, this time while ripping his shirt open and then removing it.

John broke the kiss only to place his mouth on Sherlock's neck, eliciting a soft moan from the younger man.

Slowly, he started lowering his kisses until he reached the hem of Sherlock's pants. He curled his fingers around it and pulled them down, then doing the same with the boxers.

His lips were now on Sherlock's lower stomach, still not going down on the _zone, _just because he liked watching him suffer.

Sherlock's breath was becoming shaky and his need to be touched rose.

He looked down at John, his legs tensing with anticipation, his hands finding their way into John's hair.

Sherlock had to use all of his self control to prevent himself from violently pushing his lover's head to where he wanted it to be.

Without a warning, John put his mouth just where he knew would drive Sherlock insane, so he took _him _in his mouth.

Sherlock was trying to compose himself, so he only made a soft sound of pleasure.

He bit his lips, trying to keep himself from screaming John's name and letting everyone outside know about what they were doing.

Despite Sherlock's attempts to mask his ecstasy, John could tell just how much he liked it because his whole body was trembling.

John smirked from his position.

He expertly took hold of the part of Sherlock's member that he couldn't fit into his mouth and began stroking.

Then, he swirled his tongue around its head, before going back to sucking it.

That made Sherlock's eyes close and his back arch with intense pleasure.

But the detective didn't want to come just yet and John got the memo.

He let go of Sherlock's member and pulled himself back up to reach his eye level again.

Sherlock opened his eyes again and, with an almost desperate plea, he begged John to take him.

"I need you to be inside me." he breathed, trembling with want.

John nodded and, feeling completely euphoric, he instructed Sherlock to turn over, so that he would lay stomach flat on the carpet floor.

With his aid, Sherlock was able to do so.

Being presented with that view was almost enough to drive John insane.

He hadn't seen it a long while, yet it felt like he'd only seen it hours before, for it was so familiar.

Sherlock's porcelain white buttocks reminded John of Michelangelo's David.

Before getting on with the next step, he grabbed Sherlock's head by the hair and pulled him into another, more passionate kiss.

None of them could wait much longer before going crazy.

After that John did what Sherlock liked best, so he slid a finger inside him.

Sherlock hissed at the intrusion.

With a swift movement of his hand, he took a small bottle of lube from under the sofa, just where the couple would keep it hidden.

He then passed it to John, who applied it to the tender hole.

They went in for a second kiss. Now, it was slower than before, more relaxed, but still filled with the undying desire they felt for one another.

"Just do it." Sherlock said, his voice raw and pleading. "I need you to fuck me."

John obeyed his lover's half order.

After he made sure he had stretched out Sherlock's hole, he removed his hand and slowly slid his member into the hot, slimy cavern.

It was impossible for Sherlock to suppress a scream, now.

"Aah, John!" he said.

John then began to move, starting at a slow pace.

His thrusts hit Sherlock's spots and made him fall apart right under his grip.

John felt so powerful as he took in the familiar pleasure and tried his best not to explode inside him only in a few minutes.

His mouth emitted soft grunts, noises of effort and of struggle to control himself.

The man beneath him was completely _his _again. He was controlling every single move of his and was throwing him into an endless ride of delight.

He continued to moan, at a regular interval of time.

It was Sherlock's noises of pure ecstasy that made John enjoy the experience even more.

It was like a relaxing music to his ears.

Suddenly Sherlock's body shook violently as he burst into his climax.

He came screaming John's name loudly.

Then, John was ready to have his release inside of his lover.

As he collapsed on top of the curly haired man, his eyes half closed and his body spent, John realised he'd made a mistake.

He'd just cheated on Oliver.

* * *

John left 221 Baker Street at around 5 in the afternoon. He was tired, to say the least - more exquisitely exhausted from the intimacy he'd shared with his lost lover.

As good as he'd felt during that important moment, he was still willing to respect his decision, now more that ever.

This had just been a bump in the road and he would have never fallen for Sherlock's mind tricks again, but his attraction to him was dangerous, so he needed to keep himself strict and not give into the game again.

He was going to keep his mind out of it.

It was hard, though, to lie to Oliver, once he got to his house that evening.

Oliver, of course, knew about John's face being all over the streets of London.

"What was that all about?" Oliver asked, right after greeting John, referring to that video.

John shook his head in response, then he sighed, "It was my ex. He promised he'll remove it."

Oliver scoffed. "Jesus, what did you ever do to deserve such treatment?" he asked, confused.

The John he knew was certainly not deserving of being humiliated in such manner, but the real John, well... Debatable.

He just raised his shoulders.

"I don't really know." he said.

But the truth was, Sherlock had done it to lure him to come visit him and end up making love to him on the spot.

Damn, Sherlock.


	5. Progress?

Sherlock found himself still lying on the floor in the living room of his apartment.  
He'd just made love to John. Yes, John, and his plan had worked.  
It hadn't been too hard to provoke him and, therefore, have him come to him for confrontation.

In order to get rid of Mrs Hudson's constant presence, Sherlock had found a clever solution.

He knew how much she loved smoking weed, so he'd made a pact with her. If she had stayed in her own house for the whole afternoon of that Sunday, he would have given her all the weed he kept in his bedroom.

Happy to receive free _stuff_, Mrs Hudson was only eager to comply to his wishes.

Other than staying out of sight, she had also promised not to tell Mycroft about their pact. Easy.

Now, Sherlock was still in his post-sex state, so tired but filled with happiness, and could only be more hopeful that John would have fallen in his grasp again soon.

It didn't matter who the doctor dated or slept with, he'd always go back to Sherlock.

And Sherlock knew it very well.

The detective was smiling uncontrollably there, on that floor, and stroking the ground idly.

John had left, awkwardly, without saying a word.

But that didn't matter, he just needed time.

If John had the same effect on Sherlock as crack did, Sherlock, on the other hand, had the effect of alcohol on John.

The more he took 'doses' of him, the more he'd feel drunk, dizzy and, well, ecstatic.

But too much of him was bad.

In the next weeks, Mycroft's overpowering control on Sherlock diminished.

The oldest of the Holmes brothers noticed that Sherlock would still have depressive episodes, but would also not be suicidal anymore.

For this reason, he'd cut down on the constant surveillance, like the drones.  
He'd closed an eye on the Piccadilly Circus mischief -that could only mean Sherlock was going back to his old self.

Mrs Hudson was no longer observing the younger Holmes at all times, which gave him a huge sigh of relief.

He had also been granted permission to go back to work, but only if he had a partner to work with - which would usually be Molly or Lestrade.

Also, if he wanted to go out, he had to be with a friend. All of this was just, as Mycroft would put it, for precaution.

So, one night, he went out with Molly at a diner, in a friendly way.

Sherlock knew how powerful that girl's feelings were towards him, but he also knew what a good friend she could be to basically anyone.  
Hoping it wouldn't hurt her too much, he told her about his little encounter with John.

"What?" Said Molly, almost choking on her milkshake. "You can't be serious!"  
Sherlock responded with a grin, "I am. And it was rough, but amazing." He said with dreamy eyes.

Molly wasn't sure about how to react. Sherlock had seen it in her eyes - she was hopeful that this outing could have taken their relationship to the next level, but even a blind man could tell that she had the same effect on him as a plant would.

"Unbelievable!" She uttered in disbelief. "The little prank was pretty bad, but I didn't think you'd actually done it as bait to ... take your ex to bed!"  
"Technically, we did it on the floor." He corrected her. The girl gasped at that. "But yeah, and he fell for it. He's going to crawl back to me at any minute now."

"This is not right! He has a boyfriend now and things look pretty serious. " Molly scoffed. It wasn't hard to be irritated by Sherlock's behaviour.  
Sherlock chuckled at that. "Oh, please. He's just using him to distract himself from me. Yet, he still came to me."  
Molly shook her head. "Why don't you just try to find someone else? " She suggested with a shaky sigh.

Sherlock looked at her as if she'd said something stupid. "If you're talking about yourself, then no. But anyone else really. I already tried living without him and it doesn't do me good. I mean, let's not repeat what my initial reaction was."  
"I'm just saying, the therapist thinks you should go out and explore a bit. Contrary to what you think is best for you, she says you should avoid any sort of contact with John." Said Molly.

Sherlock didn't respond to her immediately, as he was busy checking his phone.

A bit disappointed, he put his phone back down.  
"You're expecting a message from him, aren't you? Well, sorry this might be a hard pill to swallow, but he won't!" Said Molly, getting a bit angry. "It's clear he's trying to follow the therapy, unlike you."

"He's just trying to fool himself that this is the best thing to do, but he's finding it hard to resist the urge to come running to me and do dirty things like he did that time."

* * *

Like Molly had guessed, John had to use all his strength to follow what he'd imposed himself to do, in order to be coherent.

Whenever Sherlock would try to contact him, he'd ignore the message or go as far as blocking him.

There was no way he would have given in to weakness again.

As for Oliver, he was always with him.

They'd meet every night, didn't matter whose house.  
Whenever the veterinarian came to Harry's house, he wouldn't be greeted with much happiness by little Rosie.

Saying that she hated him would be an understatement.  
She would even kick his legs, sometimes. The truth was, she missed Sherlock, and no one could replace him in her little heart.

Oliver, however, being the patient man he was, wouldn't mind too much. He'd laugh at the girl's behaviour and blame it on her being young and unable to understand the reason behind changes.

At Oliver's house, however, John wouldn't feel too welcome when it came to some of his pets. His German Shepherd, for example, would always bark at him.

Oliver had blamed it on her being jealous, but that wouldn't stop John from jumping scared at her sight.

Things were going smoothly without Sherlock, although he had to admit that the vet was a bit boring in bed. It didn't even look like he enjoyed himself, sometimes.

He wasn't like any other man, but he was a lot more normal and sane than Sherlock was.

Yet, many times, at night, right before sleep, John would find himself having nostalgic thoughts of Sherlock. Some were also pretty racy, like memories of their little _sexcapade. _

* * *

When solving a case, Sherlock would find himself not paying too much attention to what was happening around him, as his thoughts were only filled with John.

Sometimes he'd just say "John." as an answer to his client's questions.

His therapist would tell him to avoid talking about him, thinking about him or even mentioning him.

That would have been too hard to do, though, as everything he saw reminded him so much of him.

Even the silliest thing was enough to bring back memories.

Contrary to what the therapist had suggested, going back to work and focusing on cases hadn't proved itself to help that much.

The only thing that seemed to keep his mind away from John, temporarily, was playing the violin - much to Mrs Hudson's annoyance, as he'd play it at night, If he felt like it.

It was like his mind would shut off, whenever he'd play.

He had to admit, though, that he was feeling better, as a whole.

Certain that his John would eventually come back to him, his days made a bit more sense. He was smiling again, at least.  
Everyone around him linked it on the abstinence from John, but they were wrong.

It was the hope of getting him back that would keep him going.

He would even invite his parents over, sometimes, and he'd reassure them that he was doing a lot better. The elderly pairing couldn't be happier to see their son in that condition.

Despite all these positive things, he'd still feel like people around him were treating him like a baby, especially his mum.  
It was like people saw him as some sort of little boy who needed help doing the simplest tasks.

But that didn't bother him too much, though, as long as they didn't observe him while he was taking a dump.

One thing he found annoying about his mother, though, was that she'd constantly try to set him up with a different girl every week.

Mrs Holmes had never truly accepted her son's sexuality, or rather, she didn't understand it.

No matter how hard she'd try, she was unable to see why Sherlock found John so appealing.  
She liked John - she'd also been saddened by their break up, but had only thought their relationship made more sense as a platonic one.

One day, while trying to solve a very simple case at his home - a woman had found out her wife had cheated on her, and wanted to know more about the mistress - Sherlock got a weird feeling in his stomach.

The woman he was talking to was blonde, she was short and her bearing was really familiar.

She almost looked like a feminine version of his beloved Watson.

Even her voice sounded like him.  
Could it be... no, impossible.

Well, of course, he'd never met John's sister before, but would she be going to ask her brother's _ex _for help?

His deductions showed that the woman wasn't really interested in talking about her wife's betrayal, rather she had something to say to him.  
The way she moved her leg showed she was nervous, and her constant looking out the window proved she was lying about some things.

"Harry." Sherlock said, out of nowhere, as the woman kept rumbling about her wife.  
"What?" she asked, blushing.  
"Harriet Watson. But everyone calls you Harry." Sherlock stated with a poker face. "You're John's sister. And yes, your wife cheated on you, but that's not why you're here today."

Sherlock hoped the reason she was there would bring good news. His heart started beating faster and his mouth became dry. He was impatient to know what her visit was about.

"This is she." said Harry. "And I came here to tell you that my brother has definitely gone mad!"  
She looked pretty shaken and, well, worried.  
Sherlock couldn't sit straight in the armchair, for how agitated he was to hear what John had done that could be considered worrisome.

Perhaps, he was inconsolable over him and wouldn't even sleep at night.

He was already going to give up his fake _healing? _

He wasn't as tough as he looked, then.

"Well, why is it so?" Sherlock asked, curious.

* * *

John was on lunch break at his ambulatory, when he saw Oliver walk by him with a rose in his hand.

How embarrassing was that. That rose looked like it had just been bought from a vending machine, but other than that it was being shown to him in public.

That was a surprise he didn't find to be pleasant.

"What... Are you doing at my working place?" John asked.  
Oliver gave him the brightest smile.  
"I came here to surprise my love." he said. He proceeded to join his _love_ at the table he was sitting at. "I know how stressed you are with patients, so I thought my presence could only make you feel a bit more special."

Oh, Oliver and his _mushy _words. John found it hard not to throw up every time he heard them.  
But he faked a smile, nonetheless.

"Oh, how nice." he said, while taking the rose from Oliver's hand.  
Unsure of what to do with it, he awkwardly smelled it. "Thanks."

"But that's not all." Oliver said excitedly.  
John looked at him in confusion. What could possibly make the surprise _better? _He needed to be enlightened.

"Look inside the petals." Oliver suggested, with a smile that took over his whole face.

John did as he was told and instinctively threw the rose as far from himself as possible.

Inside the rose's petals was an engagement ring.

"What... Are you crazy?" he asked, almost scared.  
They had only been a couple for like two months. He felt like it was a bit too rushed.

"Crazy about you!" Now, that line was downright cheesy.  
"So, will you marry me?" Oliver asked, hopeful.

John opened his mouth to speak, but stopped before he did.  
He looked around and saw that a girl was holding a phone in her hands and was _filming the scene. _  
Plus, all the people in the room were staring at them.

What could he say? Had he said no, he would have ruined the whole thing.  
But he didn't want to say yes, as he wasn't in love with Oliver, not at all.

He could still say yes, then run away from Oliver and, therefore, never go through with a wedding.

Pushed by the pressure of being observed, John said the word.  
"Yes." he said with a hint of hesitation in his voice.

* * *

Sherlock laughed in Harriet Watson's face. She'd just told him her brother had agreed to _marry _the veterinarian with the long neck.

"Oh, that's a nice one, Harry! I see why John loves you so much! You make the funniest jokes." Sherlock said in between laughing hysterics.

"I wish I were joking, Mr Holmes!" Harriet said, a bit upset. "But he said yes! He's getting married! He's gone out of his mind! I mean, he's constantly talking about you, but then says yes to marriage with that guy? I need your help with this!"

All of a sudden, Sherlock didn't want to laugh anymore.  
"You mean to tell me that you're serious?" he asked, his palms sweaty.  
"Yes. Look," the woman took her phone from her handbag and then showed it to him. "There's a video proving it."

Sherlock watched, in a mixture of shock and devastation, as the man he still loved, and that had made love to him only weeks before, accepted a marriage proposal from the ugly vet.

"Excuse me." he said after the video was over. He ran as fast as he could, his hand covering his mouth, and when he reached the bathroom, he puked all over the toilet.

Harriet stood there, sitting on the sofa, as she heard her brother's ex vomit his whole stomach out.


	6. Tell Me These Words Are A Lie

Harry tried to prevent Sherlock from breaking his whole house down, as he was being taken over by fury and utter desperation, by physically holding him back.

She'd never seen a person act like that in all her life before.

He was absolutely wretched. He was screaming loudly, rolling himself on the floor and destroying everything he touched.

_That can't be true, _Sherlock thought. Worse than being abandoned by John, worse than finding out he had a _boyfriend _was that he was getting bloody married.

So, when he had _fucked _Sherlock that Sunday afternoon, he'd just used his body to get himself off and Sherlock had fallen for his own trick, had been fooled by his own certainties.

But John was going to get married, something that would be too hard to get out of right away, and a very big decision.

In just a matter of minutes, Sherlock's progress shattered right before his eyes and his newly found good mood left him completely.

There was no way he was ever going to get John back, now, not when he was going to get a husband.

Sherlock didn't want to be his little _side bitch _for the rest of his life.  
He had a dignity, and even that came before John.

What a disgusting lad, John was.

"Sherlock... Please." said Harry, once she'd been able to get the man to sit down. "Don't act irrationally like my brother is doing. He wants to marry a guy he met two months ago, just because he can't say no. But he's out of his mind! He can't be seriously thinking about it, he needs you to get him back to normal. He won't listen to me. "

Sherlock gave out a frustrated laugh.  
"He can marry that ugly version of me, if he wants to. Who am I to stop him, uh? I'm not going to do that, not anymore. He's changed, Harry. I don't know if you've noticed, but he seems to care more about his own feelings that other people's. Oh, and he's become a _liar. _Did he happen to tell you that he _cheated _on Oliver with yours truly?" he said.

"I knew it." Said Harry, more to herself than to Sherlock. "That's absolutely not a surprise."

"Yeah and I thought the reason behind that - he initiated sex with me - was that he would always go back to me, no matter who his lover was.  
But since he's getting married, he's pretty serious. And I don't intend on becoming his sex doll or something. So no, I'm not going to help you get him come to his senses. " Sherlock said, then he burst into a psychopathic laugh, which made Harry move away from him spontaneously.

"Look... Um, Sherlock, I understand this piece of information can cause you shock, but John doesn't really want to get involved with this Oliver, as he's still in lo-" Harry tried to say, but she was interrupted by Sherlock, who jumped out of the sofa and hushed her by placing a hand on her mouth.

"Shut it, Harriet. I don't want to hear this sappy statement. He wants to marry him? Then he should do just that. Now, leave me alone before I do something I'm going to regret. It's for your own safety." said Sherlock.

He was looking terrifying, to say the least. His eyes were open wide, and his mouth was almost foaming. He looked like he was about to go insane.

A bit scathed, Harry Watson left without saying no more.

As soon as Sherlock heard the woman close the door, he threw himself on the sofa and started convulsing with laughter.  
Soon, his laughing fit turned into a violent, uncontrollable crying episode.

Never had he cried like that before, not even when Redbeard had died. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was screaming as loud as he could, when the spasms weren't too strong for it to happen.

Nothing made sense anymore. John would always find a way to ruin his life, more and more every time he tried.

All of the things he'd said about them being healthier without each other sounded to him more like a stupid excuse to hide something more, perhaps the mere fear of being seen with someone as cuckoo as Sherlock was.

John Watson was a different kind of coward. He'd had the courage to go to war, but still was scared shitless of staying with the person he loved because it was Sherlock Holmes. Such an incoherent bunch of bones.

* * *

Sherlock cried himself to sleep that night, after weeping for hours and hours. He had not eaten or drunk, for the only thing that seemed to soothe his mind was sleep.

This time, no one could have saved him from himself.

Not that he wanted to kill himself, but he didn't want to be alive either.

Maybe starving himself and avoiding to take care of basic aspects of his life would have eventually led him to an inevitable demise.  
This time, it wouldn't have just been a lie to get John's attention - his first attempt had been lame as can be - he almost wanted to die, for real, to make him feel guilty, as a way to get back at him for throwing him into this endless spiral of heartaches, in summary.

* * *

In the days that followed, Sherlock ghosted everyone.

No one knew what was up with him, so it wasn't unusual for the people around him to become filled with worry.

In some way, he had blocked the door that led to his flat, so it was impossible for Mrs Hudson to go check on him.

Nothing. He'd miss his appointments with the therapist, wouldn't show up to work...

The situation was becoming too heavy for his loved ones, so much that they had to take drastic measures in order to save him.

After two weeks of Sherlock's silence, Mrs Hudson, in utter desperation , called the police and begged them to break Sherlock's door down, thinking it the only way to be able to have contact with him.

Once police were able to break into the flat, the sight that presented itself to them was not pretty.

Food was sprawled all over the floor, therefore giving the rooms a rancid smell, and the rest of the house was a mess.

There were mice all over the kitchen, alongside roaches, and the rubbish had not been thrown out for at least ten days, by the looks of it.

The smell was so bad, that it almost made one of the police women throw up.

Police, accompanied by Mrs Hudson, searched through the whole house, but he was nowhere to be found.

What they noticed, however, was that a window was open, so that the worst was assumed. What if Sherlock had been abducted?

A missing person's report was issued.

Mycroft organised a search of his own with his drones and helicopters, but still no signs of the younger Holmes.

* * *

While his friends got crazy over him, Sherlock was wasting his life away with endless partying and sex.

He'd go to night clubs, where he'd find a different hookup every night.

It was always a man between thirty and forty years of age, but it didn't really matter who he was.

He'd engage in sexual activity wherever it was possible.

Sometimes he'd go back to their places, otherwise even doing it in a dark alley would be fine.

It was usually a quickie, Sherlock being pinned against a wall, with just his trousers and boxers down, and the other man taking advantage of his body from behind.

He didn't even know those men's names, but he didn't care, for it was the only thing that would make him feel alive.

After all, sex was sex and there was no need for John, in order to get laid.

That's where Sherlock was wrong, because, whenever he had sex with one of those men, he'd pretend they were John.

It was the only way he could get off in those encounters.

When he was reported missing, it was the morning after a threesome and Sherlock had fallen asleep in the bed of one of the two men he'd slept with, out of utter exhaustion.

He was still sleeping when his friends began looking for him, so he had no idea that police was actually looking for him.

When he woke up, he noticed that the two guys he'd slept with - who he learnt were called Gabriel and Kevin - were acting a bit... Weird.

For instance, they'd been awake for a while and were having a very quiet conversation, eyeing him from time to time, which was something that Sherlock struggled to understand.

He, of course, deduced that the discussion had to be about him, but he had no idea what they were talking about.

Perhaps, there was a chance that they knew who he was. After all, he was pretty well known among Londoners.

Gabriel noticed that Sherlock was awake only a few minutes after. He cleared his throat to let Kevin know he had to stop speaking.

Sherlock just said "Good Morning", then awkwardly started fishing his clothes from the floor and putting them on slowly. Out of all the one night stands he'd had, that was, by far, the most embarrassing, as he'd never slept over.

"You're Sherlock Holmes." Gabriel's voice broke the awkward silence that had fallen in the room.

So, Sherlock was famous around them.

"That I am. And you're Gabriel O'Rourke, aged 31, while your _companion _is your friend Kevin Geert, two years your senior. Now that we've introduced ourselves, I think it's time we part ways." said the detective in his sleepy voice. He wanted to flee the scene as soon as possible, so he tried to get out of the bed, but Gabriel prevented him from doing so by grabbing his arm.

That gave Sherlock a small jolt of fear.

" You're the lad that was reported missing two hours ago. I got notified of that on twitter." said Gabriel. "You're not going anywhere."

_Missing? _Confusion took over Sherlock as he tried to set himself free from the other man's grasp.

"What do you mean I was reported missing?" he asked, curious, although he had a slight idea about why that had happened.

"Yeah, you were last seen weeks ago at your house, but then when police came to your house, there was no trace of you." said Kevin.

Oh, made sense now. That had been Mycroft's doing, there was no doubt about that. Oh, Mycroft Holmes and his overprotectiveness. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I was seriously gone for _one night _and my brother already did all that? I suppose you're not going to let me escape until you get the reward?" Sherlock asked, quite annoyed.

The two men didn't have the time to create a response, that police sirens could already be heard from outside Gabriel's flat.

* * *

After Gabriel and Kevin were promised a reward for _finding _Sherlock, the eldest Holmes grabbed his brother and took him into one of his helicopter, to give him a private telling off.

Sherlock had not tried to run away upon being found by his brother and police, for he knew that it would have made matters worse.

Upon seeing him, Mycroft's reaction had been very similar to the one a person would have when presented with a decaying corpse; for Sherlock's face was so white and not cared for, he looked like he was dead - and he looked perilously skinny.

"What on Earth has gotten into you?" said Mycroft, once the two brothers were alone in the helicopter.

Mycroft was furious.

Other than that, his eyes showed he was extremely preoccupied.

"You look like you haven't eaten for weeks! And what were you doing in a stranger's bed? Do you know how much you risked your life like that? One of your two... _friends... _Told me he'd seen you hanging about a club for two weeks straight, meaning you probably screwed around like crazy, risking to catch innumerable STDs. Jesus, Sherlock, is your desire of death so high?" Mycroft reprimanded. He rubbed his face in frustration.

Sherlock didn't know where to look, so he opted for out the window.

"I don't care about anything anymore. Nothing makes any sense, Mycroft, not now that John is getting married. I can die, for all I care. There's nothing in my life right now that makes it worth living." said Sherlock in a faux calmness.

It wouldn't have been a shock if the sound of utter frustration Mycroft made after that comment could be heard from the ground, for how loud it was.

"Again, all of this is for _John. _You need to move on, Sherlock! Your life means something to a lot of people, including me - we already had this conversation when you were in a hospital bed- and you need to be detoxified from this obsession you have for John." said Mycroft.

Sherlock didn't respond to that, as he was too numb to do so.

He wondered what it felt like to be John's new fiancé, how lucky that man must have felt when he'd said yes to his marriage proposal. Was he going to treat John like a jewel or would he have taken him for granted?

It was like his brother's words didn't matter to him._ Blah blah blah, you need to be free from this fixation with John, blah blah blah. _

"Sherlock. I'm sorry if I've been too protective and I made you feel like I put you in prison, but this is for your own sake. You're too unstable to be treated like a normal, sane human being. So, in light of your recent behaviour - attempted suicide, sleeping on dumpsters and now this - you leave me no choice: you will spend a month in rehab, away from all of us. I promise you, this is the best way to deal with your demons."

Upon hearing these words Sherlock realised that, maybe, his brother was right, this time.


	7. Painful Choices

John regretted agreeing to marry Oliver the moment he said yes.

He didn't even like spending time with Oliver that much, and he wasn't sure he'd want to spend the rest of his life surrounded by pets and choking on their hair.

However, he had promised himself he would have done anything to stay away from Sherlock and perhaps marrying someone else would have done the trick.

He wondered when the feeling of love would invade him when it came to Oliver, since he still felt something for Sherlock.

Ever since he had slept with him that day, he'd sworn he'd never fall for his stupid tricks again. That also meant no one was supposed to know about it, not even his sister.

Oliver had become obsessed with the incoming wedding, he'd call all his friends and relatives daily to inform them of the good news.

John, instead, wanted to be discreet about it, so he'd only told Harry and his daughter about it.

Harry's reaction had not been the best - she'd only congratulated him and given him a fake smile- while Rosie had spat in his face and run to hide in her bedroom.

It didn't matter how much John hoped his family would welcome his wedding with open arms, he could detect that it was not going to happen anytime soon, but the decision had already been made and there was no going back.

As there were less and less days before the wedding, John and Oliver were extra busy with preparations.

The cake had to be special and characteristic of their relationship, that is their most common trait: the fact that they were both doctors.

Of course, Oliver's figurine would be portrayed next to his countless pets, whereas John's would be standing next to a patient - but both would be wearing white coats and gloves.

John wasn't too thrilled at the idea of doing something so extravagant, as he wasn't particularly a fan of being at the centre of attention, but Oliver was too much of a drama queen for a normal and basic cake.

When it came to the theme of the wedding, it was clear that they were going to follow the path of the cake. As if guests hadn't already figured out that they were both involved in medicine.

Oliver had a quite a vast list of guests of his own - all his friends, his colleagues, his enormous family, family friends and each one of his pets, somehow.

Whenever he'd hear Oliver gush about how excited he was to invite his third cousin Reginald and his super amazing friends, John would realise just how alone he truly was.

John's guest list wasn't going to be that long, it would only include his immediate family and, maybe, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, who didn't hate him as much as the others did.

He didn't know if he should invite Sherlock to his wedding or not.

He remembered how good his first wedding had been, mostly because of Sherlock's presence.

Things were different at the present time, though, and he felt that Sherlock wouldn't have appreciated watching John Watson, his ex, marry someone else, rather than watching John Watson, his best friend, do the same.

Harry had initially pretended to be ok with her brother getting married again, but her charade hasn't lasted too long.

Not much after the announcement, she had started telling him that she felt he'd made a mistake; after all, he didn't know Oliver that well. John would just ignore her; deep inside, he thought she was right, but there wasn't really much he could do, his idea of leaving him at the altar had already left his mind, for it would have been too cruel.

"You're marrying him out of pity." His sister had said once, while John was busy browsing through the net in search of a good wedding suit.

"I'm really not." John scoffed, almost offended. "I like Oliver."

Harry rolled her eyes at that. "Don't lie to me, John. I know you very well, my brother, and I know you're not in any shape or form in love with this gentleman. You're just using him as a rebound for Sherlock, and since you're unable to say no, you chose to marry him."

John had not said a word to that, but only continued his search for wedding suits.

That was his typical reaction to when he knew that his sister had won an argument.

He still loved Sherlock, deeply, and their little encounter had not really helped in forgetting him.

John knew that taking their relationship to the next level had been the worst idea the detective had ever had. It had ruined their friendship, just like he'd imagined, and the two men were forced to be away from each other, if they wanted to be ok again.

Had they stayed friends, none of this would have ever happened, they would have kept their life as crime solving best mates, without anything or anyone breaking them apart.

John spent many sleepless nights with his thoughts tormented with Sherlock, who wouldn't stop contacting him.

As much as it pained him to do so, he would always see himself obliged to avoid responding to calls or texts.

Those nights were filled with dreams, very good ones, in which things between them had never been better or just simple memories of their past as lovers.

For example, the most beautiful memory that they had of each other, the day they got together.

_**The day Sherlock and John got together **_

_It was late at night, John was sitting in front of the computer_, _editing a draft for his blog, when Sherlock suddenly stormed into the room. _

_"John? What are you doing awake? Don't you think that night is made to sleep?" he asked. Sherlock definitely looked like he had just awoken from slumber._

_He had bed hair and he was wearing his robe, which was a bit loose, surely because Sherlock had moved a lot in his sleep. _

_"Oh, hi, Sherlock, I'm surprised you even went to bed. Weren't you stuck in your mind palace about the forks case?" John asked, without removing his eyes from his computer. _

_"Nu-uh." said Sherlock, before yawning. "I figured I'd be more able to solve that case after a full night of sleep. But your constant typing woke me up"._

_"Oh sorry, mate, I just have to finish this blog entrance. It's about life with you, it takes a lot of writing." John responded. _

_Sherlock gave a smile. He felt flattered at the thought that John was writing an article about living with him. It certainly would have been a very interesting story, since living with Sherlock was full of surprises and plot twists. _

_He just wished he had many positive things to say about his flat mate. _

_"Wow, you're really writing about that topic? I'm sure it will be full of interesting things." said Sherlock. "Like, for example, dying over how hot I am." _

_Sherlock's words managed to make John blush. _

_"Shut up!" John said as he turned around to face him. _

_Sherlock looked pretty hot, like that, with his hair all messy, indeed, but John didn't want to admit it to himself. _

_"It's mostly about how annoying you are." _

_"Well, admit it that you'd rather be annoyed by me, than not have me in your life at all." Sherlock said, still smiling broadly. _

_It was true. It didn't matter how extremely insufferable that man was, life without him and proved itself to be dull and full of sorrow. _

_John felt a weird feeling take over him. _

_It was a weird type of heat, like he'd been drinking wine, and it managed to bring a smile to his face that was enough to make his cheeks cramp. _

_"Don't make me say it." John said bashfully. _

_"Well I'd rather be awaken in the middle of the night by the sound of you writing, than find out I'm alone in this house." Sherlock said. It was probably his tiredness, but he sounded like a teenage girl in love. _

_"Ah, shut it! It's too late for sweetness._" _the doctor responded, avoiding to look at the detective. _

_"You like this. It makes you feel loved, John, and you always feel loved, whenever you look at me. I'm your happy place." said Sherlock, slowly walking closer to the other man. _

_Safety was what John would feel upon glancing at Sherlock. The other man was his whole world, but he would never put it in his article - he would have been too embarrassed to even write down those words - yet, there wasn't a better feeling than turning around and seeing that Sherlock was there, no matter how badly he would annoy him or drive him crazy. _

_He wondered why, though, the younger man had chosen to be so sickeningly sweet so late at night, it was almost out of character for someone like Sherlock - not that John hated it too much, he secretly liked that feeling._

_Something was clearly up._

_Without further warning, John found himself being kissed by Sherlock. _

_It was sudden, rushed, but John didn't pull away. He wasn't too surprised, he had seen it coming a little bit. Euphoria was what he was feeling and it couldn't be stopped for anything in the world. Without even realising, John felt himself smiling against Sherlock's lips._

_After the initial - even if small- shock died down, John let himself go and explored a side of himself he didn't know before. _

_That was what it felt like to kiss your soulmate. _

_It was a bit weird, he had to say, but it felt right. _

_It was like his brain was on fire, ready to explode for the high amount of endorphines it was releasing. He had to keep those lips on his, at all costs, because he needed them there, he craved them and every second of that kiss felt like a mixture of Heaven and Hell, because it was amazing, but he knew that it had to end, just like every kiss._

_But he had to think straight. _

_"Sherlock." he breathed after the kiss was over. "What you said is true, but... Are you sure you want to ruin our relationship?" _

_"This is not ruining it, John, it's making it better. We're each other's soulmates, it doesn't matter how hard you try to deny it. We're meant to be together, so if you just give yourself to the rush, you'll see that this is what you really want. You want me. " _

_John sighed. What if getting together would have forever ruined this bliss? And besides, what would have the general public said if they'd found out John was actually in a relationship with a man? _

_Sherlock had a point though, it didn't really make sense to avoid taking a chance that, maybe, would have never repeated itself in the future._

_"Ah, fuck it." he said, after making up his mind, hoping he hadn't just taken a bad decision._

_And with that, John and Sherlock turned their friendship into something more, something beautiful and amazing, that neither of them could get enough of. _

* * *

Reliving that night over and over, both in his waking moments and in his dreams, was enough to bring John to tears.

How could things have become so sour between the two, that they had to be apart?

Oliver wasn't able to give him that feeling, not one bit, yet he was the one he was going to marry.

No matter how hard John tried to convince himself of the contrary, Sherlock was all he wanted.

John's mind was confused and also very incoherent, but his thoughts had to be focused only on one thing : his own life and getting healthy.

There was a small voice in his head saying that he never would have found real happiness with Oliver, but he always chose to ignore it, for it was easier to do so, if he didn't want to be invaded by sadness.

Yet, Oliver's presence and his warmth in the bed with him weren't enough to stop him from crying.

* * *

Sherlock was released from the rehabilitation centre in early May, around a month and a half after entering. The idea of him spending all that time in that institute was to get him to deal with his addictions and his suicidal tendencies.

He had learnt a lot about himself and other people, making friends with quite a few individuals there. It had been hard at first, to live days without anything to get him high, but then, after a while, he'd just get himself accustomed to a new routine ; eating, socialising, sleeping and psychological evaluations.

After leaving the institute, Sherlock was glad to know that his brother had stopped his obsessive surveillance on him all together ; the detective had shown many signs of outstanding improvement.

Of course, there was something he had kept hidden; his attachment to John hadn't left, it had just turned healthier and more manageable, mostly because, with all he had to do, he didn't have time to think too much about him.

He had accepted that he was getting married to someone else, because he knew, deep inside him, that John would eventually come to his senses.

The first person he saw upon leaving the facility, was Harry. They met at his house and had a very positive conversation in front of tea.

Sherlock's rehabilitation had made him a much better person and his aura was so potent that it inevitably brought Harry to smile.

Harry informed Sherlock of what he had missed, which was basically just John making wedding plans with his soon to be husband.

Sherlock had, as he'd suspected, not been invited to said wedding, but Harry could choose who to bring as her guest, so she obviously chose Sherlock.

They formed a sort of plan: presenting John with Sherlock and seeing his reaction to it.

There was no way Harry would have let her brother marry someone out of boredom, it seemed.

"There is absolutely nothing that I say about it that John listens to. He thinks he's doing the right thing. God, even after what happened between you two, he's still so fixated on marrying Oliver." she said.

Sherlock sighed at that. He couldn't recognise John, a person who had always followed his heart, often being a bit too optimistic and unrealistic, was convinced he had to follow a path he had created for himself, just to prove a point, it seemed.

That he could live a life without Sherlock, that he could be sane without him.

The truth was that John had fooled himself that he could be normal by getting involved with someone that was, well, normal - but that certainly wasn't what John was attracted to, which was Sherlock, and had been Sherlock for a long time, before he had gone crazy with the idea of changing that.

There must have been something else that had gotten John to that point. Maybe his inability to accept that he was in a relationship with a man? Either that, or there was a major force in his decision and Sherlock was close to finding out what that was.

Being in rehab had taught Sherlock a very important lesson, one can only heal if he wants to, if he truly believes he can, and John surely didn't really believe he could heal, because his distance from Sherlock wasn't what it would take for him to get better, but he didn't want to admit it to himself just yet, he preferred to live in the illusion that he had created.

"He won't marry him, once Oliver finds out about what took place after I put John's face all over London." Sherlock said with a serious expression.

Harry gave an embarrassed giggle. "He could still believe none of it ever happened." she said. "After all, that could be just something made up by an enraged ex lover. "

Sherlock smirked wickedly, which made Harry shudder a little. "What if I told you that I had proof of our little misconduct?" he said.

"No..." Harry covered her mouth with her hands. "You're not telling me that you filmed the whole thing?" she asked, still incredulous that Sherlock could be so calculating.

The man nodded. "I was prepared when John came here, I knew that something would take place, so I hid cameras right here." he pointed at the chimney. Then, to prove it to Harry, he walked by the fireplace and took a small camera from behind the clock.

"Wow, Sherlock Holmes, are you a magician or something?" Harry asked with a hint of amazement in her voice.

That man truly was a genius, there was no question in that, and he never failed to surprise people.

"However, I will only use said evidence if giraffe man doesn't believe a little something happened between me and his groom." said the detective, "I'm mad at him, but I still love John and don't want to humiliate him any further."

Rehab had also shown Sherlock that going to the extreme to get someone's attention doesn't always mean they're going to appreciate you after.

"I can't believe we're planning to sabotage a wedding!" the Watson woman exclaimed, "I wish I had done the same to my ex wife's wedding to the woman she cheated on me with!"

Sherlock chuckled. "That was just because you didn't know me at the time."


	8. Thoughts Of Confusion

John had chosen his best man to be Lestrade, as he'd always found him to be a loyal man.

His guest list turned out to be small and intimate, with just about twenty people, as he'd already guessed, but every invited person could bring a guest of their choice, and Harry had been very excited about it.

She said she'd bring a very important guest, someone that John absolutely had to meet, because they were that special. John wondered who that could be, probably just his sister's new love interest or something; he just hoped that new woman would be better than that cheater Clara.

It was only a matter of days and John would have married for the second time in his life. He remembered the excitement that preceeded his first wedding, and how his good mood had infected everyone around him, together with his anxiety, while this time he didn't feel any emotion.

It was like he just needed to get through with it like it was a chore, something that he was forced to do and he didn't feel would be too pleasant.

Not even when he had sent the invitations, or chosen the right cake flavour, had he felt a hint of happiness.

Oliver, on the contrary, was more than thrilled for that day to come.

Time spent at Oliver's house was almost excruciating for John - filled with cheesy talks, and the obligation to hear the man speak hours and hours on the phone as he organised the menu and whatnot.

Oliver had been very specific about a certain topic; no more sex until the wedding night, as he was convinced it was bad luck to do the deed in the days that anticipated the ceremony.

Whatever it was, call it tradition or just superstition, that didn't put John off too much - after sleeping with Sherlock, the doctor had found himself unwilling to participate in many sexual acts with the young vet. He hoped this feeling would fade once married.

Harry was slightly evasive, John had noticed, acting like she was keeping something from her brother.

He figured it had to be something about her secret guest, whom John was more and more curious to meet.

She'd never spend too much time at home, as she'd go directly to visit her special someone, John had assumed.

What John didn't know was that his sister was actually in Sherlock's company, pretty much daily.

When John's Barchelor's party came, it was pretty much... sad. Only him and Inspector Lestrade sitting at a bar, drinking cheap alcohol. He had also invited Mrs Hudson, who had refused to even come to this wedding. She was still too attached to the idea of him and Sherlock together, but who could blame her?

Greg was happy that John was getting married again, as he knew that it would be for the best.

Secretly, he was still hoping that John would change his mind and, therefore, go back to Sherlock, but, after all, it was his life and whatever his decision would be, Greg would have supported it as the friend that he was.

"You know, Greg." John said just as he had sipped out of a glass of beer, "I think I'm a piece of shit for not marrying the person I truly want to marry."

Alcohol had already installed itself in his system and he was beginning to let out all of his inibitions and secret thoughts. _In vino veritas_, as they say.

Greg looked at him with a knowing look. "You wish you were marrying Sherlock, right?" he asked, although he was certain of the answer.

"It's just that Oliver doesn't really make me feel anything." John said while slurring his speech a little. "In both senses." then, he started laughing.

Greg, who was a bit more sober than his friend, tried to ignore the allusion.

"If he doesn't make you feel special, in any way, then why are you marrying him?" he simply asked.

"Because he's a poor little fool. He thinks he found eternal love with me, you know? But in reality I'm just using him to forget about that detective of yours. I don't want to marry him anymore, though, Greg, but I already agreed to it, and I am a man of my word." John spoke, trying to get himself from falling out of the stool.

"Of course you are, but it's clear you don't love him one bit, so why don't you, I don't know , annull the wedding? I mean, this is a very important decision, John, and you are about to, seemingly, spend the rest of your days with a man you scarcely know and don't even appreciate too much." Lestrade responded. It was clear that John wasn't willing to change his mind about it, but Greg felt that a bit of convincing would probably do the trick.

John shook his head. "What if I do that and that guy kills himself or something? I don't want to be responsible for his death. And, besides, Oliver doesn't make me crazy as Sherlock does. Oh, if only Oliver could transform into Sherlock and become my husband."

John's words were pure incoherence, maybe the alcohol was confusing him a bit, but his mind was clearly on Sherlock.

"But, John, you are the one that said that you had to be as far from Sherlock as possible, yet you continue to talk about him and, well, wish he could magically be the one you are going to say I do to. I'd be really content if marrying Oliver were what it took for you to acquire happiness, but if you don't think that could give you a happy life, then my advice is to tell him how you feel and go and get your Sherlock back. " Lestrade expressed his concerns.

John, who had just drunk one more glass of beer, just started crying, out of nowhere. He practically went into a sobbing fit right on Greg's shoulder. The drunkenness was turning him into a sobbing mess as it brought out the deepest parts of himself that he wanted to hide from the world.

"I am a failure." he said in between sniffles. "I almost brought Sherlock to kill himself, so he's clearly better off without me."

Lestrade was a bit embarrassed by John's outburst at first, but then he just figured he had to let the man allow himself to feel and let out all that he'd been keeping for a while.

Greg wrapped his arm around John, pulling his into a hug as the short man cried out all his tears.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, John. In fact, Sherlock is not better off without you, on the contrary he had to go to a rehabilitation centre because being without you is what destroyed him." he said, although he realised that John might not take that situation too well.

"He... he went to rehab?" John asked, clearly worried, as he pulled away from the hug.

"Yeah, John, Sherlock has a lot of demons living in his head and you are, well, the only thing that keeps him away from those demons." Greg said in an attempt to calm the other man down. "So, this is why I'm telling you this, go and get him, John. Don't think that you are bad for him, because you are what he needs to be happy. Don't worry, Sherlock is doing better now, but he'd be the most happy if he had you by his side again."

John's breathing became even and his tears ceased flowing. Despite being quite drunk, he was thinking in a pretty lucid manner. He knew that Lestrade was right, and he couldn't stop the words _rehabilitation centre _from repeating themselves in his mind.

Sherlock had really come to that? First an attempted suicide, now that... maybe, Sherlock really needed him, and they weren't bad for each other after all?

He had almost made up his mind about it, when he felt two hands slap him on the shoulders.

Startled, John turned around to see who had done that.

It was his groom-to-be, Oliver Dawson, with a flower wreath around his neck, and an obscene hat that looked that a heart on his head. He was surrounded by about ten friends, who were drinking out of their minds.

"Surprise babe!" Oliver squealed before grabbing his fiancé's face and brushing their lips together.

John didn't kiss him back.

"Oh, yay." John said in a fake tone of excitement, after the kiss was over.

Greg found it hard to keep himself from laughing, so he looked away in embarrassment.

"I thought I'd surprise you, my love, since the boys and I were getting a bit bored at the party, and besides I couldn't spend another second without seeing my beloved husband to be!" The tall man said as he chuckled heartily.

John wanted to dig himself a hole and put his head down there, much like an ostrich would do.

What a good timing.

"Ah, aren't we supposed to be apart, for tonight?" John asked, trying to sound as sober as possible.

"But _boo, _I told you, I can't spend a night without you!" said a very tipsy Oliver, pouting to enphasise his words.

"I get that, but tonight, we're supposed to have a different barchelor party, Oliver, we can't really be doing this." said John.

Oliver snorted. "But, who cares about rules! I don't think all the lovers do this!"

And with that, John was unable to do what he really wanted to do, which was kicking Oliver away abruptly.

Even if he was drunk, he knew that he had found himself being trapped in an endless cage and, leaving this man for the one he truly loved, would have surely devastated Oliver, so he spent the rest of the night trying to make it a good time for himself, Greg, Oliver and his countless friends.

* * *

Sherlock saw a picture of his ex's barchelor's party from Oliver's twitter.

His heart sunk and he became nauseous at the sight of the love of his life in the company of his soon to be husband. He had to sit on his bed in order to avoid falling on the floor. He felt tears threaten his eyes, so he let them flow out.

He kept trying to tell himself that it was just temporary, that he would have been the one in the picture soon, but still, the sight of that was enough to devastate him.

He tasted his tears and closed his eyes to calm himself down. In rehab he had been taught how to handle his emotions, so to make sure he wouldn't break down every time something triggered a reaction.

He took deep breaths as he lay down on the bed. It was hopeless, though, to stop the sobbing fits that were coming to him.

In that moment he wanted nothing more than to hold John into his arms, feel his warm body against his and drown into the happiness that he made him feel.

But he was there, home alone, in his bed, while John was out to party with his new love.

No one was there to comfort him, to make him smile again and Sherlock had to use all of his strenght not to devastate his house like he had done the previous times.

He had succeeded in getting better and he wouldn't have thrown it all away just for a picture.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to attend the wedding, though. What if John had carried on with it and actually wanted to be marrie to that stupid vet?

That didn't make sense to Sherlock, not at all, as he knew, deep inside him, that John was still in love with him.

But a small voice in his ears kept telling him to let him go, to let him move on and marry him if he really wanted it. After all, he would have been selfish if he'd put himself between the apparently happy couple.

It was also what Molly had suggested to him. Might have been influenced by the fact that she had feelings for him, but it made a bit of sense.

But could someone really let go of a love so passionate, enough to hurt more than a knife through a heart?


	9. Teal Blue

Without the time to be able to realise what he was doing, came the day for John to get married to someone he didn't love.

It was his sister who woke him up, as he needed to spend a long time getting ready for the fateful day.

He had to take a shower, have his sister do his hair, and then wear the white, medical coat looking tuxedo.

He would have been taken to his own wedding via a limo that Oliver had paid for, but still, John wasn't too excited. Not even a bit of anxiety, just endless boredom.

"Oh come on, John! Smile a bit, you're getting married today!" said Harry while applying gel to her brother's damp hair.

She had woken up extra early to do her own hair - which was luckily short - and get into her teal blue gown.

John had taken an hour only to get out of bed and take a shower, and his face looked like he had to go work a late night shift.

"I just want this day to be over, so I can forget about it." he huffed. "And then just enjoy a fun married life in the company of a quirky vet."

"Then, why are you doing this?" Harry asked as she combed through his hair.

"I already told you." John sighed. "Just to be coherent."

Harry shook her head at that. "Whatever you say."

"But speaking of you, today I'll finally get to meet your special date." John said, changing the subject. He gave his sister a smile through the mirror.

The woman gave a giggle. "Oh, you will love this person. I'm sure you'd get along." she teased.

"Can I at least know her name?" John asked in curiosity.

"That would ruin the surprise!" Harry chuckled. "Wait and see."

"But, Harriet! I'm dying to know!" John pouted, trying to suppress a laugh.

Harry shook her head in response, then she happily opened Spotify and music began to play.

She looked strangely too happy, dancing to her favourite songs, as she helped her brother get ready for an occasion she didn't really approve of.

_This mysterious girl has to be very important to Harry_, John thought. He was shaking in his seat to finally see her.

_If only he'd known._

The limo came a few minutes late, but John didn't seem to care.

A fussy Rosie was sat in the limo on her aunt's lap, as she didn't want to be anywhere near her father, since she didn't accept his marrying choice.

No efforts made by her father seemed to get her to be nice to him.

She was going to be a very difficult woman, growing up.

* * *

Waiting at the altar for the second time was utterly tedious.

All the guests were excitedly waiting for the ceremony to start.

John was glancing at his watch every two seconds, thinking that, in that moment, he wished he was home chilling while in front of his computer, making a blog entry.

Canon in D started playing as John's best man, Oliver's friends and his dogs made their entrance in the church.

The female dogs, Lily (the German Shepherd who hated John), Koko, a Golden Retriever, and Hattie, a Husky, were all wearing light blue collars, with a small jewel on each of them.

All these appearances were followed by Rosie, who was the flower girl, and she was really upset.

She tried to run away, but Lestrade stopped her from doing so. The scene was so fun that everyone in the church laughed pretty loudly.

When the little girl finally arrived at the altar, she stomped her feet and threw the flower basket on the floor. She gave her father an angry look, before she crossed her arms and looked away.

A few minutes later, it was time for Oliver to make an entrance. He had his arms linked with his father.

John faked a smile and waved at his groom with a movement of his head.

Oliver was wearing a long, white coat, and was holding his cat, Julius, in his arms.

He was smiling broadly as he walked down the aisle.

He looked like a prince who walks in a square full of his loving servants, while he says hello to all of them via a gesture of his hand.

His girlfriends were already wiping each other's tears and John felt they were a bit too over-dramatic.

John impatiently looked for his sister in the crowd and found her sitting next to a dark haired woman, who was wearing sunglasses and a rather masculine outfit, more precisely a teal tuxedo.

He felt happier at her sight, than at Oliver's.

Once Oliver arrived at destination, the music ceased and the marriage officiant spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here in this glorious day to witness the union of Oliver Andrew Dawson and John Hamish Watson..."

As the priest spoke, Sherlock, who was wearing a long wig and shades to hide his true identity, felt his heart twitch in his chest.

The love of his life was standing right before the vet with the long neck as he held his hands and smiled at him.

In just a few minutes, they would have been husbands. He knew he didn't have much time before he could act, and he was trying to calculate the best way to make his scene.

Harry had advised him to wait until the questions about disapproval of the union would be asked, but he could hardly wait.

It was the second time that he watched John hold someone else's hands, waiting to be joined with him in holy matrimony, and it surely wasn't easy to handle.

The first time had been hard enough - so much that he had to leave the event earlier - but this time... it was at least four times more difficult to witness.

At least Rosie's clear displeasure to her father getting married to a stranger was enough to bring him to smile.

"Please, repeat after me." Said the officiant, giving his attention to Oliver. "I, Oliver Andrew Dawson..."

"I, Oliver Andrew Dawson..." said the vet, giving John's hands a tighter squeeze and giving him an even brighter smile. "

"Take you, John Amish Watson..." the priest continued.

"Take you, John Amish Watson..." Oliver followed.

"To have and to hold."

"To have and to hold."

"For better or worse." John added, thinking that it could make the 'torture' end faster.

"For richer or poorer." said Oliver, now unable to suppress a squeal.

"In sickness and in health." said John in a sigh.

Harry gripped Sherlock's arm, signalling to him that he had to act in that moment, but he was unable to process what he was witnessing, which was too much for him.

Watching what was happening right before his eyes felt like a very sharp, incandescent blade had cut through his body.

It was as if he was deafened and the only thing he could hear was a continuous ringing in his ears.

All he wanted to do was run away and cry his eyes out, but he was stronger than that.

The thing he desired more than anything in the world was standing right there and he could get it, but he was immobile.

For a second, he imagined himself standing right there, in Oliver's place, and feeling what must have been pure, unfiltered euphoria.

Oliver didn't know how lucky he was, since he was about to become John's husband.

There was hardly any time left, before John would be married to someone else.

Sherlock took a deep breath, his eyes closed. "Give me a moment." he whispered to Harriet.

He needed to express his love for him, through it all, because he needed him to choose them, to choose the two men in love, the two men who enjoyed each other's company and lived every day together acting as if it were their last.

Sherlock needed a few seconds to come up with what to say. Public speaking was not his forte.

"I promise to love, to trust and to respect you.." said Oliver, breathing shakily.

John opened his mouth to continue the speech, but he was interrupted by something that his daughter screamed in her high pitched voice.

_"Shelo!" _was what the toddler said.

Suddenly, the whole church went quiet as the little girl made a run to where he aunt's date was sitting.

Sherlock felt himself freeze as the little girl jumped into his arms and removed his sunglasses an wig. It was like the world had stopped spinning and his heartbeat boomed into his ears.

He and Harry had not predicted that little Rosie would ever recognise him underneath that disguise, but they'd been wrong.

John's mouth dropped at the sight of his ex, Sherlock, sitting there, his daughter on his lap.

So, that's who Harry's super secret companion was, there was no girlfriend of hers, it was Sherlock. Why would she invite his ex to his wedding? Something inside him made him go into panic mode.

"Sherlock?" He said, confused.

"I guess my cover's blown, so I might as well say something." Sherlock breathed as he stood up, after dropping the little girl on the floor. "I love you, John. I always have. And I came here today to tell you how much I need you to realise that it's me you have to choose, not just some random bloke you met on Grindr, who, frankly, looks more like a giraffe than a man. What are you doing, John? This isn't you. I know you better than anyone else, even more than I know myself, and I know you deserve to be with someone that you truly love, which is me. I had to go to rehab to make the pain of losing you go away, but it didn't work. We are soulmates, John , and it makes no sense for us to be apart to be better. No, we need to be together John." Sherlock said, all in one go, with tears prickling at his eyes.

The groomsmen looked at each other quizzically, while John didn't know what to do, for how embarrassed he was.

Oliver gave John an extremely confused stare.

Every guest was shocked, except for Harry, who was hopeful. She was holding her breath, praying for the best case scenario.

After no one said a word, Sherlock continued his speech.

"Please say something, John. Be true to yourself and stop acting with your brain, but focus on your heart. You and I, we collide like two pieces of the same medal, two vortexes of emotions that fit with each other like a puzzle. Please, follow what you truly desire. Come here and kiss me, run away with me, take me like you did that Sunday at our house... Don't hide from your own feelings."

Oliver caught the hint of the cheating episode that had unfolded and asked John for confirmation. "Is that true, John? _The Sunday_."

John turned his head to face him, his mouth gaping open, but he couldn't emit a sound.

"This is an outrage!" Oliver's mother yelled from her seat. "Someone get this man out of here!"

All eyes on him, Sherlock panicked and then proceeded to run out of the room. Shit, he had screwed up, big time.

Now, there was no way John would ever go back to him, as he had been humiliated at his own wedding.

Stopping a wedding feels so exciting and a very cinematic thing to do, but that only happens in romcoms or tv shows, not in real life.

Stupid, stupid plan.

Sherlock sat right outside of the church big doors and held his face in his hands as he sobbed.

It was over, forever, he never would have seen John again.

He needed something to get him high, like a drug, something to stop the pain.

He knew that he had to contain himself, or he would have gone into relapse, but in that moment he needed to allow himself to _feel_.


	10. Bursting

Sherlock was sitting outside the church in which his ex was getting married to someone else, after his failed speech.

In the midst of all the sadness that he was experiencing, anger added itself to the emotions.

How could John remain in that room with someone else, without even following Sherlock outside? Did he matter nothing to him already?

Maybe Molly was right and he had to stop trying to pursue John, give up on him and move on.

"What was that?" a familiar voice finally broke Sherlock's trail of thoughts.

Sherlock tilted his head up to see that John was standing there, his face giving away that he was in quite a bit of distress.

"Nothing... " Sherlock sighed. "It doesn't matter now."

"It does matter! Jesus Christ Sherlock, what the hell got into you and Harry? You ruined a wedding! Have you lost your bloody mind?" John was beginning to raise his voice.

Even if John was visibly angry, somewhere deep inside him Sherlock took a sigh of relief.

An angry John was better than no John at all.

"I only spoke the truth." Sherlock replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"But you could have avoided _exposing me _like that in front of everyone! What, you thought that making a scene at my wedding would have made me run off in the sunset with you? This is not a soap opera, Sherlock!" John shouted in frustration, while gesticulating for emphasis.

"And you could have avoided agreeing to marry a person you met only months ago, whom you don't even love, after cheating on him with me. Do you really want to spend a lifetime at the side of a person who doesn't make you happy for what? Just a bet with yourself?" Sherlock snapped, as he began to rise to his feet.

It was like all the anger he'd felt for John in those months without him was starting to leave him and be passed on to the person who had caused it all to begin with.

"Stop trying to act like a model citizen who only pursues relationships with healthy individuals!" he continued.

"What do you know about my relationship with Oliver? You shut your mouth because you have no idea!" John spat, clenching a fist. "And mind your own business!"

Sherlock burst into laughter. "I know from your sister that there's nothing about him that makes you remotely happy!" he said. He was now basically in John's face, ready to fight him.

"Harry. I should have known there was a more sinister reason for her unexplained secrecy!" John scoffed, invading Sherlock's space further.

"Why don't you just tell why the hell you thought it was better to put an end to our relationship? Why you thought my absence would make you better while you've been neglecting your family, getting drunk and getting married with a random man? You think this was healthier than living a loving relationship with someone who actually tried to kill himself because he loved you so much?" Sherlock yelled, now at the verge of tears once again.

Those words struck John like lightning. Apparently Sherlock had no idea about how he had felt after someone so dear to him had tried to take his own life and everyone had blamed it on him.

All those sleepless nights filled with guilt and regret, all those disgusted looks he'd receive, over something he had no control over.

"Why do you keep rubbing it in and blaming me for your own decision?" John let out in an exasperated yell.

It wasn't fair, how he had been treated in the whole situation, when he didn't have all of the blame, and certainly wasn't the only bad guy in the whole thing.

"John-" Sherlock tried to say, but was interrupted by his interlocutor.

"No, Sherlock, let me finish! It's always about you, isn't it? No one ever asks me how I am or, I don't know, listens to my version of things?" said John, his voice breaking. "It's always about the perfect detective Sherlock Holmes, never about the stupid, gullible John Watson?"

Something suddenly hit Sherlock, it was an uncomfortable feeling. So, John had hidden a certain insecurity away from him, and had always kept it buried within himself.

Many aspects of John during their relationship, finally made sense.

Sherlock was a master of deduction, yet he'd let that slip somehow, probably because the feeling was mutual.

All those paranoias, creeping up to him a like a disgusting parasite, convincing him that John deserved better than him and that he wasn't good enough, were also felt by John himself?

Sherlock was taken aback at those words, to say the least.

"John, I had no idea that you were feeling like that... I wonder how it is that I didn't notice, since I shared that feeling." said Sherlock, his tone softened. In his eyes, John could see a hint of regret. "I'm sorry if I made you feel lesser than me, or that you were living in my shadow."

John shook his head. "I suppose it's my mistake, for not letting you in on it." He sighed, feeling a bit calmer than before. It was also slightly therapeutic, to finally speak his mind.

"No, it was also my fault. I didn't tell you that I felt like I wasn't good enough for you, it's why I took it so badly when you left, because I thought you'd realised that you could find someone better than me." Sherlock said in all honesty, calming down as well.

"Of course not, Sherlock, you are the single most amazing man to have ever walked my path." said John. The lump in his throat was beginning to be a hard task to ignore and his voice was even more broken than before. "The only reason I got with Oliver was only because I needed someone to help me forget about you."

Sherlock had to bite his lip to avoid bursting into tears.

"Then, you see why it didn't make sense to go our own separate ways, now? One without the other, we're as good as a broken machine. We need each other to function." the detective replied, unable to prevent a smile from forming on his lips.

"But, Sherlock, I made you wish for death!" said the doctor.

"Your absence did that, not you, John. You see, I had to go to a rehabilitation centre because I was wasting my life away, I was destroying not only myself, but everyone around me." Sherlock said while looking into John's deep, blue irises.

John was opening his eyes, at last, and was starting to see the reality of things. Those words spoken by someone he felt intense feelings for, were extremely painful to hear.

That was when he realised how wrong he had been for all those months, that he had been stupid to throw away something so pure and beautiful just because of miscommunication.

"Jesus, we've been such idiots!" John uttered. "We should have been more honest with each other, this way we would have avoided all of _this_."

"We could have, yes, and I'm willing to try again, this time being completely sincere." Sherlock spoke, extending a hand for John to hold, while hardly keeping his tears from flowing.

John was fully crying at that point. He wanted to try, because being without Sherlock was worse than being poisoned, so it was probably the only way to put an end to all of that destruction.

John, however, didn't take the hand that the other man offered him; he wrapped him into a warm and tight hug.

Sherlock reciprocated the gesture, and held onto him for dear life.

Suddenly, a feeling that the detective had been yearning for a very long time, took over him; safety, and it was so familiar, so comfortable, that it felt like they had never been apart at all.

It felt so natural, so right, and the two men could finally take a sigh of relief.

Sherlock stroked John's back as the shorter man's body shook with sobs of release - the release of all the tension he'd been holding up for a long while - then he followed suit and let himself cry freely.

That moment felt even better than a kiss, or a night together, for it was filled with nothing but love at its finest, and there was nothing more pure and raw than that.

Right then and there, all the bad things disappeared and the two men basked into each other's warmth.

When they parted, the two looked into each other's eyes with the brightest smile ever.

Sherlock took John's face into his hands and wiped away all of his tears with his thumb, turning that gesture into a soft caress.

"I'm willing to try, too." John said in a whisper.

Feeling the happiest he'd ever been, Sherlock leaned in closer and smashed his lips against John's.

That was, hands down, the best, most romantic kiss ever shared. Unlike their last kiss, which had been filled with lust and desire, this one felt a lot like their first kiss and, in a way, it was.

The long-lost lovers were too busy enjoying each other's presence, that they failed to see that there were at least ten other people, standing outside the church.

The sound of Oliver clearing his throat, however, startled the two and signalled them to put an end to their kiss.

"Care to explain?" Oliver asked, his arms crossed.

John awkwardly let go of Sherlock and glanced at the man he had temporarily forgotten he was supposed to marry.

"I'm sorry, Oliver." John said in a sigh. "But I can't go through with this. I'm not the man you want me to be, I still have feelings for this one, for this reason I also cheated on you, and I'd be lying to you if I said my heart's desire was to marry you right now... You deserve better, really. Someone who actually wants to spend the rest of their life with you, and I'm afraid that someone isn't me." he let out in all sincerity.

John had to admit that he was prepared for a bomb to explode and be attacked by a furious Oliver, but that bomb never went off.

The vet just put his hand on John's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze.

"You know, many friends of mine disagreed with my decision to marry someone I'd met only a couple months before , but I'm an incurable romantic, so I didn't listen to them. I wanted everything to be perfect, I thought you would fulfil my dream of finding true love but the truth is..." The tall man sighed, his eyes closed. He looked like he was digging in his mind for a thought he'd lost along the way. "The truth is, being with you was a bit forced. There was no spark, nothing that romantic comedy teaches you, but I still wanted to go through with today, because I didn't want to be a let down to you, John."

Ignoring the feeling of shame that characterised that moment, John spoke his words.

"I thought I'd let you down... Oh man, I'm sorry it had to be this way, that it had to happen right at our wedding, I guess I should have known better. " John then shifted his focus on the guests.

None of the other people who were present, witnessing that talk, were able to say a word.

Oliver's mother was in a visible distress, but his brother and sister were trying to calm her down.

"To all of you, I'm sorry for ruining what was supposed to be a wonderful experience-" John tried to continue his speech, but Sherlock came to the rescue.

"Don't, John, you're not the one who stopped a wedding. Myself and stunning Harriet Watson here made up a plan for me to get John back to sanity and realise that he didn't have to marry someone he didn't love, but I suppose the execution got rather messy. I apologise for wasting all your time." said the detective. "And I'm sorry, Oliver, for kissing your groom, but I hope you will give us your blessing."

Sherlock was surprised that his intervention had not caused John to kill him right away, or Oliver to decapitate him on the spot, for ruining their big day.

The vet that Sherlock detested so much, had proved himself to be very understanding of John's decision to stop the wedding.

"I can't say I'm not a bit, um, upset that things took this type of turn, however, I feel it's only right for me to step aside and let you two cultivate your romance. I mean, the way John looks at you, boy... I could only wish to be looked at." The vet said in a chuckle, then he winked at Sherlock.

"But, Oli, you can't be doing this!" The vet's mother intervened. "We spent too much of our savings into this celebration!"

"Why don't you take advantage of this and proceed to marry your boyfriend, mum? This way, we won't be wasting people's time and money won't be lost unnecessarily."


	11. Never Without You

_**Five Months Later**_

Morning light came into the bedroom and hit Sherlock's tired eyes.

The detective groaned as he inevitably woke up, as the ray of light was too strong to ignore.

John, who was lying on his chest, was still asleep. Sherlock could swear he had never seen anything more beautiful than his boyfriend while lost in sweet slumber.

He looked so innocent and cute like that, and that was enough to make Sherlock smile sweetly.

He was almost too adorable to disturb, but the two men had a very busy day ahead. They had to take Rosie to kindergarten and then head to work on a new, mysterious case.

Softly, Sherlock ran his fingers through John's hair to try and get him to wake up, but the doctor only snuggled in closer to the other man, still not getting out of sleep.

"John, my sweet." Sherlock said in a whisper. "Wake up, we have to take Rosie to her first day of school."

Finally awaking, John produced a sound of protest. He wasn't ready to let go of Sherlock's body, which was too warm and familiar.

"Can we do it like this? Not letting go of each other?" Said a groggy John, his eyes still closed.

Sherlock chuckled in response. "Wouldn't it be wonderful, uh? But no, unfortunately we have to separate our bodies in order to get ready to leave." he then patted John's arm to let him know it was time for him to move.

"Ok, ok." said John, huffing. "But in two minutes" as he said so, he pried his eyes open and looked into Sherlock's.

"Look who finally decided to open his eyes!" The detective teased. "But I agree we could postpone our morning of just two minutes."

John replied with a triumphant grin. "I knew you would accept my proposal."

Sherlock looked at his boyfriend with all the adoration he had to offer and thought of how lucky he was to have him lay into his arms, to wake up next to the love of his life, once again.

After the dramatic interruption of John's wedding, the two men had agreed to give their relationship another shot, as they had finally realised that the distance between them had been nothing but destructive.

Oliver had taken it pretty well and the whole ceremony had turned into a wedding for his mother and her partner, who had wanted to get married for a long while, so that no one's time would have been wasted. Three fourths of the people there, were actually Oliver's family or friends, so it really wouldn't have changed much.

The moment John and Sherlock had made it to 221B Baker Street, they had not wasted time and had made love to each other on the bed.

That encounter had been different than their last one, which had been nothing but a mere rush of their physical needs, as the two lovers rediscovered each other's bodies with their long lost burning passion. Both men had found themselves unable to stop smiling and laughing, as they dove into the renewal of their love story.

After that moment, they had come back stronger than ever, and had vowed to never make the same mistakes again. They knew they were going to make it this time, by being completely raw and honest, without storing their insecurities into a closet.

Now, as they both lay in bed together, holding each other close, they both knew that nothing could feel better than that.

"What?" John asked, as he'd noticed that his boyfriend had been staring at him with a loving look in his eyes for the past twenty seconds.

"Nothing." Sherlock shook his head. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to be here with you, now."

Those words were enough to colour John's face a shade of bright red.

It was incredible how the detective could speak words that made him feel all warm and fuzzy and hopelessly smitten.

"Jesus, it's too early for this type of sweetness." John giggled.

"I mean it, John, we made it, and we didn't even break anyone's heart. I mean, if we hadn't done it, Oliver maybe never would have found his one true love." Sherlock observed, while idly stroking John's messy bed head.

"Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten about that. What were the odds that he and Molly were going to meet on Tinder and then like each other?" John chuckled. Apparently the strange vet wasn't that gay after all, and Molly seemed to enjoy spending time with someone so similar to her.

A win-win situation for everyone.

"Yeah." Sherlock giggled. "Something that sounds rather impossible, if you ask me."

The two minutes the couple had set for lazying out in bed turned into ten, then twenty, then thirty. They weren't doing anything special, just the intimacy and the romance that characterised their time together in that bed.

They didn't even have to talk, in order to be content, as their mere presence was enough to brighten up awful days, when those times came around.

"Ok now, I think we can't waste a minute more. We have to go get Rosie ready." Sherlock said, after an intense cuddling session, realising how little time they still had before making Rosie late for school. "Get up your lazy bum!" Sherlock repeated, upon noticing that his boyfriend was pretending not to hear his request.

"Ok, fine." John groaned. "It's going to take around fourteen years or so before our daughter can walk to school on her own, I see." he said as he unwillingly let go of Sherlock's body and proceeded to stick his feet into a pair of grey slippers.

It took Sherlock a few seconds for those words to have a sort of impact on him, so it only hit him once he'd already gotten out of bed. _Our daughter_.

The two men were basically already raising Rosie together, but the little girl had always referred to Sherlock as _Shelo, _her extremely adorable way of saying his name, and never daddy or similar names, and John had never really given Sherlock a parent role.

But now, he had said _our daughter _and Sherlock couldn't help but become teary-eyed at that gesture, and it wasn't even something clamorous, but it was enough to melt his heart.

"Why are you still in your T-shirt?" asked John, after noticing that his boyfriend hadn't even begun to get dressed, while the doctor was already getting into his trousers. "Weren't you the one who was trying to get us to hurry or little Rosie will be late?"

"Our daughter?" Sherlock repeated, unable to ignore what had happened.

John turned around to look at him, all while fixing his own collar. "Well, we're both taking care of her, so it makes us both her dads, technically." he said with a grin.

"Yeah, but... you really think I could, um, actually go forward with an adoption? So that we can make it official?" Sherlock asked, a bit shy.

John smiled at his lover's bashful question. "Of course! I 've been meaning to ask you, but I just never got the chance."

Before Sherlock could say a word, the sound of fast running footsteps let him know that their baby girl was awake and ready to go to school.

* * *

After leaving Rosie at kindergarten for the first time, Sherlock was strangely quiet.

Usually when Sherlock was quiet it could only mean he was up to something.

"What's up? Thinking of how to solve today's case?" John asked after noticing his boyfriend's lack of speech.

"Exactly. Now, John, I need us to take the first taxi to get to Piccadilly Circus." Sherlock said without looking in John's direction.

A bit confused, John did as Sherlock said and the pair hopped on the first taxi that they saw.

Sherlock had a poker face for the entire duration of the ride. John wondered if he had said or done something that had upset Sherlock, since he was acting a bit too weird.

It wasn't unusual for Sherlock to get a bit gloomy, once in a while, especially if he was working hard on a difficult case, but this time there was something off about it.

After getting out of the cab, John was still confused as to why Sherlock had brought him to Piccadilly Circus, since they were working on a case that had nothing to do with that place.

"You think our killer is hiding in the middle of London's most crowded location?" John asked, his eyebrow raised.

"No." Sherlock simply said, then he extended his hand for John to grab. "Just come with me."

John held Sherlock's hand in his and for the first time in his life, he didn't mind that people were staring.

Without saying a word, the detective took his partner to the centre of the square, right below the big screen.

The screen was completely black, which was strange.

Then, all of a sudden, the hundreds of passerbys in Piccadilly Circus turned their heads in the couple's direction and began dancing and singing an unfamiliar song which went like:_ "John Watson, John Watson, you are my love, I need you in my life forever and always."_

John's mouth gaped open in surprise. What was all that about? He chose not to say a word, though; he wanted to see where it was going.

The doctor looked at Sherlock, who was trying his hardest to suppress a smile.

After a good three minutes of that flashmob, all of the participants put their hands up and pointed at the screen.

A slideshow of the couple's goofiest photos appeared, and John could have sworn he had never felt more in love with Sherlock. It was so hard to keep himself from crying.

But that wasn't the biggest surprise: after that slideshow, followed a mute video of a smiling Sherlock in suit and tie.

The giant Sherlock then looked down, so that his eyes were in the direction of the Sherlock in the flesh, who was down on one knee.

John's heart began racing when he realised what he had just witnessed, so he gasped loudly when he heard his lover pop the question.

"Will you marry me, John?" he asked while cracking open a small box, a nervous smile painted on his lips.

"Jesus, Sherlock." John said with a trembling voice. "You always love grand gestures, don't you?"

Sherlock tried to scan John's face to find an answer, but there wasn't any.

_Oh Gosh_, Sherlock thought, _what if I was too forward and made a huge mistake? _

Sherlock's mouth was starting to become dry, and he couldn't even hear his thoughts for how loud his heart was beating.

"And that is why I consider myself the luckiest man alive, as I'm going to marry you, so... I guess I can expect my face to be painted on every wall for that date." John concluded with a huge grin and his cheeks wet with tears.

The crowd cheered loudly as Sherlock got up from his knees, put the engagement ring on John's finger and pulled him into a deep kiss.

As they dove into their first kiss as fiancees, the two lovers held each other as close as they could.

The distance between them would forever be nullified, from that moment on, as the two men had finally realised that they just worked better together.

**_THE END._**


End file.
